


Devil in the Details

by Momonoki



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awkwardness, Be Careful What You Wish For, Drake is thirsty, Established Relationship, Euphemisms, Healing Sex, Hospitals, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Launchpad needs a break, M/M, Meddling Kids, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Misunderstandings, Mood Swings, No beta we crash and burn like Launchpad, Not Serious, Oblivious, POV Child, POV Third Person Limited, Tsunderes, drakepad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23819383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momonoki/pseuds/Momonoki
Summary: Despite Launchpad and Drake having a kind of blasé date, Gosalyn is shocked the next day when she notices a huge change in Drake’s demeanor.  Hoping to take advantage of her dad’s good mood, she suggests to Launchpad that he and her dad should go on dates more often.  Then things around the Mallard-McQuack household start to change for the better, or so she thinks....This multi-chapter story is from Gosalyn's perspective, who is oblivious to the true nature of her dads' shenanigans and thus, awkward but humorous misunderstandings ensue.Rated for language, innuendo, and hinted-to, implied sex between Drake and Launchpad, who are pretty new to their relationship (and a teensy bit too enthusiastic).
Relationships: Drake Mallard & Gosalyn Mallard & Launchpad McQuack, Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 10
Kudos: 84





	1. Prelude to Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> I am very bad at titles, but I chose this title because it refers to problems that arise from unexamined details, which is something that Gosalyn finds out about by the end of the story (meanwhile, LP and Drake learn a different kind of lesson). Plus, the title sort of fits when you think of the whole angel/devil concept, since a strange kind of "angel" does appear in this story.
> 
> In general, this is based on the '91 cartoon characterizations, but there are references to the new Ducktales here and there. Also, some of the things Gosalyn says are definitely based on 90's slang.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a typical day for Gosalyn: video games, her dad getting mad, and him lecturing her. But tonight seems like it'll be a little out of the ordinary because her dad and Launchpad are planning on going out. But wait—they're not bringing her?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the whole “being bad at math” thing—I have a random headcanon that Drake is probably pretty good at math, but because he likes to show off, he insists on using the wrong or too-complicated formulas for something that doesn’t call for it, and ends up messing up even simple addition and subtraction.

Gosalyn Mallard had two extra lives and all the power-ups she needed to take on the final boss in _Whiffle Boy X7_ , and she was _juuust_ about to open the ominous yet totally badass-looking portal to the boss when back in lame but very Real Life, a loud noise from downstairs broke her concentration. **_Oh crap._** _Wait for it_ , she thought, rolling her eyes. _Three…two…one—_

“GOSALYN!!!” Sure enough, it was her dad—known to most as Drake, and known to a select few as Darkwing Duck—yelling. _What else was new_. Five bucks says he tripped over something she, err, accidentally left out, and landed on his ass. “Get your butt down here!”

Reluctantly, she tossed her game onto her bed, and preparing herself for a lecture, headed downstairs.

As she thought, her dad was standing near the front door, rubbing his butt with one hand and holding up one of her roller skates in the other, giving her an accusatory glare.

“What have I said about leaving out stuff like this? Especially at the foot of the stairs? Last time it was your skateboard. I thought I was going to break my neck!” He looked thoughtful. “Although this time it wasn’t so bad…but _STILL!_ ”

“Oops,” Gosalyn said, sheepishly, tracing a pattern on the carpet with her foot. “Sorry…” Her dad didn’t say anything for a second, so thinking it was okay to leave, she turned to head back up the stairs, but collaring her, he yanked her back around to face him.

“Hey! I’m not done talking to you, young lady,” he began, and she wondered what _ELSE_ he was going to say, until her stomach dropped, realizing with dread that he was holding a very _familiar_ -looking envelope. It was an envelope that she thought she had secretly thrown out along with some Hamburger Hippo wrappers from when Launchpad bought her and him some lunch the other day. But no, it was _definitely_ that God-forsaken envelope, but now it was crumpled and had mustard stains all over it. She gulped. _This was bad._

“Care to explain what this is?” But by his tone, it was clear he already knew exactly what it was.

“Oh, gee, my report card! Thanks for finding it for me, Dad! I thought I lost it,” Gosalyn said as brightly and innocently as possible. He wasn’t buying her crap, though.

“Uh huh, _yeaaaah_ , you ‘LOST’ it right into the garbage. Thankfully—although not really—Launchpad forgot to take the trash out this morning, and so I noticed this very interesting little envelope lying right there on top.” He pulled out the paper inside and showed it to her. Gosalyn, of course, already knew the contents, but she cringed anyway. 

“I can definitely see WHY you threw it away. You really need to work on these grades, young lady! Well, except for P.E.—you’re doing great in that class,” he said, for a moment impressed at the one A-plus in a sea of Cs and Ds. Then he frowned again. “But as for the others, it looks like we need to cut back on your video game and TV time so you can focus on your studies,” he said, folding the paper back up as Gosalyn scowled at him.

“But I hate studying,” she grumbled. “Who has time to read all that stuff? Nobody cares anyway.”

“ _I_ care, young lady, and so will _you_ if you end up having to repeat a grade. Not that I’m going to let that happen,” he said, a little ominously. 

“What are you going to do, chain me to my desk and pry my eyes open with toothpicks so I have to look at my books?” She challenged, calling his bluff.

“Oh, it’ll be worse,” he said, smirking. “I’ll tutor you.” _Oh no._

“Please no, Dad! I’ll study more, I promise!” _Anything_ would be better than having her dorky dad try to teach her stuff. Gosalyn would never say it to his face, but he was somehow even worse in math than _she_ was, which was kind of incredible. She’d fail that class _for sure_.

“Okay then. I’d better see an improvement in your grades by the next report card cycle,” he said. “Otherwise I’m going to become your study buddy.” _Urgh_.

“Can I go now? Please?” Gosalyn begged. She needed to get out of here before he started lecturing her on something else. Like the ramshackle state of her room. 

“Not yet. I also wanted to tell you that Launchpad and I are going out tonight,” he said.

“On patrol? Are you on a case?” She hadn’t been out with them fighting crime in a while—her dad always said it was too dangerous, so he often kept her forcibly at home—so she had no idea if there was some villain they were recently trying to bust.

“Nonono,” he said, avoiding her gaze, suddenly looking up at the ceiling. “Err, we’re going out to dinner. Then possibly going to a movie.”

“And you’re not taking me? Why not?!” Gosalyn glared at him. Seriously, there were so many cool horror movies out right now, if only he would let her go. _Who cares if they’re rated R?_ R stood for _RAD_ in her opinion.

“Well, because it’s not really, um, a _family_ thing.” He for some reason still wouldn’t look at her and tugged at his collar. “It’s, uh,” and he trailed off, apparently not finding the words, which was amazing for someone who ran his mouth as much as her dad did.

“Like a _DATE?”_ Gosalyn raised an eyebrow at him. Her dad and Launchpad had been very obviously “together” for about a month or so now, but her dad was still all shy about it and danced around the topic, at least when he talked to her. As if she hadn’t seen them kissing in the hallway more than once. 

_Bleh_ , she thought, _but whatever_. She was over it. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen their relationship coming from a mile away—heck, some people thought they were already _married_.

At the word “date,” he got a little red in the face. “Well, uh, yes. It’s like that.” He then channeled his embarrassment into being stern, a typical Dad Move. “Anyway, YOUNG LADY, I asked Binkie from next door to look after you tonight, so whenever we leave, I want you to go over and hang out with Honker this evening until we get back. Is that clear?”

“ _Okaaaay_ , Dad,” she said, defeated. Honker being her best friend, she of course didn’t mind hanging out with him, but she was kind of annoyed that she wasn’t allowed to stay home alone. Sure, she might accidentally set something on fire, but that was all part of growing up, right? _C’mon_ , she thought. _Let me LIVE a little_.

The front door opened behind the father-daughter pair and Launchpad came in with some groceries. “Hey, you two,” he greeted them cheerily, and shifting the huge pile of stuff he was holding to one massive arm, hugged both Gosalyn and her dad hello with his free one. Gosalyn noticed that he tried to sneak a kiss on her dad’s cheek, which earned him a warning glare and a sharp elbow in the belly, but as usual, Launchpad was unfazed by his coldness.

He released them, and smiled down at her dad, who was still glowering up at him. “Ya ready for tonight?”

Her dad suddenly looked shy, but as usual he turned it into something snarky. “I would’ve gotten ready sooner, but I’ve been waiting around for SOMEBODY to come back home…” He crossed his arms and looked away, seemingly miffed. His face was a little red, though. 

“Well, lemme put this stuff away, and I’ll start gettin’ ready to go,” Launchpad said, and gave Gosalyn a wink. He knew her dad and his particular brand of crap pretty well. 

Before going into the kitchen, Launchpad bent down to talk to her, giving her an apologetic look. “Sorry we can’t take you with us tonight, Gos. How ‘bout we go somewhere together next time?”

“Aw, sweet! Can I choose the place?” _Somewhere with tons of games, tickets, and crappy prizes?_

“How ‘bout—” Launchpad looked as excited as she was.

“Funso’s Funzone!!” They said in unison. Gosalyn especially liked finding a way to “unrig”—it’s not cheating if the games cheat _you_ , she always said—the rigged games, and Launchpad absolutely loved the fake nacho cheese from there. But there was _somebody_ who didn’t like this pinnacle of family entertainment, three guesses _who_.

Her dad was scowling beside them. “No _WAY_ , that place is a huge waste of money. Not to mention a cesspool of germs,” he said, waggling his finger like he was going to start lecturing again. “What we _should_ do as a family is go to a museum. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Grimacing, Launchpad and Gosalyn looked at each other like they’d much rather have a root canal. Truth be told, her dad would probably hate the museum too, once he got there. He just liked the IDEA of doing something “quality” like that.

“ANYWAY, LP, you should finish that up and get ready. I’m going to take a shower and get dressed,” he said. “And Gos, you need to get ready to go over to the Muddlefoots’. _Definitely_ don’t envy you there,” he muttered to himself, and headed upstairs.


	2. Daaaaate Night!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake and LP prepare for and go on their dinner and a movie date while Gos hangs out at the Muddlefoots'. Unfortunately for them, Drake and LP's date seems to have been only kind of...meh.

Gosalyn had not only finally beaten the end boss of _Whiffle Boy X7_ , but she had played through all the stages of _X8_ , the next game in the series, when her dad _finally_ came downstairs. Launchpad had put away the groceries and gotten dressed in a nice shirt and blazer in maybe 20 minutes, and was sitting next to her on the couch just dozing while he waited for Mr. Perfectionist to get ready. 

When he finally descended the stairs, her dad was wearing a pretty nice-looking dress shirt, that _shocker_ , was a shade of pink (or “salmon,” _whatever, DAD_ , she thought), and he had a tailored jacket layered over it. Admittedly, he looked pretty good, and judging from Launchpad’s sudden interest he seemed to think so too. 

That said, when her dad approached them sitting on the couch, Gosalyn started to choke uncontrollably because her dad had REALLY overdone it with that cheap cologne of his, and now he stank to high heaven. Launchpad didn’t seem to notice, though, probably because he was too busy just smiling dopily at her dad, and the way her dad was looking back at Launchpad, it looked like the feeling was mutual. Her dad snapped out of it quickly, though.

“Ahem…alright, let’s march Gos over to the Muddlefoots’ and then we can be on our way, LP,” he said, and with that he grabbed both their hands and led them to the front door. Since they lived next door, it only took about twenty seconds to reach the Muddlefoots’ front door. It felt really weird to ring the doorbell to their house when usually Gosalyn just walked on in, but nevertheless the three of them waited patiently on the front step for Honk’s dad or mom to open the door for them. It was his mom who answered.

“Oh! Why hello, Drake, Gosalyn, Launchpad. Oh my, don’t the two of you look nice!” She cooed, surveying the miracle it was that her dad for once wasn’t wearing a sweater vest and Launchpad was out of his pilot gear. Launchpad grinned and her dad just awkwardly looked at his feet.

“Err, thank you, Binkie,” her dad said. “We should be back around nine, so we’ll come by and pick up Gosalyn around then.” Mrs. Muddlefoot ushered Gosalyn inside and stepped out of the house to whisper something to Launchpad and her dad. Curious, Gosalyn craned her neck toward the door and strained her ears to hear what Honker’s mom was saying.

“If you’d like, I _could_ keep her overnight, to give you two a little more, ahem, _private time_ ,” she whispered behind a cupped hand, giggling a little. Gosalyn wasn’t really sure what she meant by that, but hearing that, both her dad and Launchpad blanched.

“I-err-uhm… _No!_ She doesn’t need to stay overnight. We’ll come pick her up _LIKE I SAID_ ,” her dad said, getting irate. Since Honker’s mom was doing him a favor, he seemed like he was trying to suppress his usual rudeness towards the Muddlefoots, but obviously she was touching a nerve.

“Oh, all right, dear. But do let me know if you ever need me to look after her. I wouldn’t mind in the slightest,” she tittered, and gave Launchpad a wink, who only smiled weakly back at her.

“Thank you, Binkie,” her dad said through gritted teeth. “We’ll be back around nine, Gos,” he called over to Gosalyn.

“Okay, Dad. Enjoy your _daaaaate_ ,” she replied, waving to him and Launchpad, snickering at how her dad almost tripped as he and Launchpad walked away, apparently still all flustered at the word “date.”

\----

True to his word, her dad and Launchpad knocked on the Muddlefoots’ door at 9:02 PM. _Dangit, Dad_ , Gosalyn thought. _Why’d he have to be so freakin’ punctual?_ She was hoping they’d be an hour or so later so she could stay up longer. It was pretty much guaranteed that as soon as they went back to their own house, it would be her bedtime.

By the time they got back inside their house, Gosalyn had a plan to stall for time: it might be SUPER boring, but she’d ask them about their date. _Anything_ to stay up a little longer.

“Sooo, how was it?” Gosalyn said, parking herself on the couch, making no move to get ready for bed, which she would have been forced to do _AGES_ ago on a regular night.

Her dad removed his jacket and folded it neatly over his arms. “Uh, well, the dinner was alright, I guess. A little overcooked.”

Launchpad sat down on the other end of the couch and looked thoughtful. “I thought it tasted pretty great, myself.”

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Gosalyn said, trying to urge them on. For some reason they weren’t being as talkative as she’d hoped. “What about the movie?”

“Terrible.”

“Yeah, not that great.” She was shocked that Launchpad agreed with him. 

“How come?” _Come on, give me some details_ , she inwardly begged. _I don’t want to sleep yet._

“Well, there were way too many sex scenes,” Launchpad said, matter-of-factly. Gosalyn didn’t know too much about what a “sex scene” was like, but she imagined that there was a lot of kissy-face. If it was anything like that, she probably would have hated it too.

Gasping at Launchpad loudly, her dad glared at him, looking scandalized. “ ** _Launchpad_** _!_ Don’t talk about _that_ in front of Gosalyn. She’s not old enough yet!” 

“Sorry. I guess I just wished there was more action, you know, instead of _action_.” Gosalyn didn’t really know what he meant by that, but her dad nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, the plot was, uh…lacking a bit.” He seemed lost in thought. _Quick, I need something else to ask them_ , Gosalyn thought, wracking her brain. Unfortunately, she didn’t have squat.

“Anyway, young lady,” her dad said, snapping back to reality. _Great, here it comes. The “Time For Bed” spiel._ “It’s about time for certain little girls to be going to bed.”

“Oh _pleaaase_ , can’t I stay up til 10? It’s already 9:30, so…” Gosalyn tried her luck.

To her surprise, Launchpad and her dad _both_ said, “NO, Gos.” She felt a little chastised.

“Okaaaay, _fine_ ,” she grumbled, resigning herself to her fate.

“If it makes ya feel any better, we wanna go to bed too,” Launchpad said. He did look a little tired, and so did her dad. It was still kinda early for them, though. She guessed maybe they were just getting _OLD_.

Gosalyn grumbled her way through brushing her teeth and getting into bed. Though she of course hugged them back—she wasn’t a _monster_ —she did her best to pout when her dad and Launchpad each gave her a kiss good night. It was even more irritating when she fell asleep almost instantly, proving that she probably really _did_ still need to have an earlier bedtime, just like a little kid. _Grr._


	3. A Strange Occurrence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Drake and Launchpad's date night, Gosalyn notices that her dad is acting pretty weird, and aims to figure out why. Contains troll!Gos nearly giving LP a heart attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What song Drake is singing is up to your imagination, but I was thinking some _seriously_ cheesy pop.

Gosalyn was dreaming that she had become internet famous for her sick skateboard skills when she started to hear singing permeating her dream. _Bad_ singing. Her eyes fluttered open, and she realized that it was coming from real life, somewhere downstairs. And, weirdly enough, the singer was her dad. Usually the person who liked to sing off-key in this house was Launchpad, so she was really confused. _Time to check this out._

She opened her door and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, made her way downstairs. _Oof_ , the singing sounded worse and worse the closer she got. Finally, she reached the kitchen, and there was her dad, clad in that goofy frilly purple apron he liked to wear, singing some bizarre song from his generation as he flipped pancakes in front of the stove. Launchpad was in the kitchen too, just kind of humming along, sleepily curled up in the breakfast nook. There was a mug of coffee in front of him, but it looked untouched.

Her dad noticed her and gave her a radiant smile. "Oh, good morning sweetie," he said, scooping up the pancake he had apparently finished cooking and putting it on a big platter of pancakes. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Dad, your singing could wake the dead," she said drily, but continuing to hum to himself, her dad ignored her jab.

"Are you ready for some breakfast? I know LP probably is, the big silly," he said cheerfully in Launchpad’s direction, who was now snoring a bit, head on the table, drooling. 

_‘Silly’?_ Her dad usually just flat-out called him an idiot.

"Uh…yeah. Smells pretty good, Dad," she admitted, her stomach growling as she eyed the big stack of pancakes. The food looked good, but she felt that something was sort of _off_ here about this whole scene. Shrugging this thought aside, she went and scooted next to Launchpad on the booth-style seat of the breakfast nook. He stirred awake and gave her a sleepy smile.

“Good mornin', Gos,” he murmured, stretching out a huge arm above him as he yawned. He jolted fully awake, though, when her dad set down the big platter of pancakes in the center of the table.

“Oh, looks real good, DW,” he said excitedly, and her dad _winked_ (!) at him—like calling Launchpad a “silly,” this was also _VERY weird_ —and turned to collect some other stuff they'd need in order to eat. He returned shortly with some plates and silverware.

He was about to sit down with them but suddenly stopped himself. “Goodness, we can’t have pancakes without syrup,” he said, waving a hand in front of him like he was dismissing a ridiculous notion. 

Gosalyn raised an eyebrow at him. _'Goodness'? What the **heck** , Dad?_

“Oh, and Gos needs something to drink, too, don’tcha sweetie? What would you like?” He called from over by the refrigerator, voice like honey.

“Uh, juice I guess…” she muttered, more and more baffled by his behavior.

Her dad started whistling as he poured her a glass of orange juice and brought it and the syrup container over to the table. He sat down and started doling out the pancakes. He gave her two, him two, and gave Launchpad five. 

“Knowing you, you'll probably _still_ want some more,” he said playfully, giving Launchpad's thick bicep a squeeze. Launchpad smiled down at him. 

_Wow._ Gosalyn couldn’t get over how… _chipper_ her dad was being this morning. It was kind of weirding her out.

“I made plenty, so eat as much as you want, you two,” he said, and they all dug in, making idle chitchat as they ate. Gosalyn couldn't believe that her dad wasn't complaining. About _anything_. Just giggling when Launchpad made a lame joke, and being hyper considerate of her, constantly asking her if she needed more juice, a napkin, another pancake, et cetera.

When they finished eating, her dad started to stack the dishes so he could clear them away, and Launchpad placed a huge hand on his, stopping him.

“Let me and Gos take care of cleaning the dishes, DW," he said, and Gosalyn suppressed a groan at being roped in to help. "You cooked, so let us do the cleanup," he explained, and with that, he leaned down and gave her dad a big smooch on the side of the face. 

Gosalyn scowled at the PDA, but she was more shocked because her dad just _LET_ him kiss him. Usually he shirked away, or, if the kiss managed to land, he would start growling angrily at Launchpad. Was she in a particularly sappy episode of _The Twilight Zone?_

Instead of going off on Launchpad, her dad just blushed and said, “Oh, all right. Thank you. I'll go ahead and get started on the laundry then. I'd like to wash the linens today." And with that, he promptly left the kitchen.

Finishing her juice, Gosalyn inquisitively turned to Launchpad, wondering if he had any clues about this mysteriously cheerful version of her dad. 

"Dude, what in the **_HECK_** has gotten into him?"

Launchpad, who was stacking up their plates, suddenly turned scarlet. "Uh, no clue, Gos," he said shakily, but something about the way he was avoiding her gaze and acting all nervous told her that he probably actually had a pretty good idea.

Gosalyn grabbed the dirty silverware from the table and walked with him over to the sink. 

"I think you _do_ know," she said. "He was his normal, cranky, sarcastic self just yesterday! Did he get mind melded with aliens or something last night?" 

She paused, thinking about how cool that would be. _It would be JUST LIKE Dad to not take me along when something as awesome as aliens were involved_ , she thought.

"Well, I guess he, um, just enjoyed our date last night," Launchpad said as he began to soap up the dishes.

" _Really_?" Gosalyn sputtered in disbelief as she handed him another dirty plate off the stack. "Both of you seemed so freaking _BORED_ when you came back last night, so I figured it was a really crappy date."

"Oh naw, it was one of the best ones we've been on," he said, a little dreamily, rinsing a newly cleaned plate.

"I thought the food and the movie kinda sucked, though." _Were adults so lame that they got excited over a subpar date?_ Gosalyn wondered. _I'd love to see their reaction when they had actually had FUN._

"Oh, it wasn't the dinner or the movie that made the date so good," he said, smiling to himself, then went pale when he realized what he'd just said.

Gosalyn narrowed her eyes up at him. "I thought that _WAS_ the date, Launchpad. Was there something else you two did to make Dad so happy?" 

Launchpad didn't say anything, just kept washing the dishes and avoiding her gaze. _Hmm._ _The secret was almost out_ —Gosalyn could feel it. She just needed to prod a little more.

“Well, let's see then,” she said, deciding to flex her detective skills. "Dad was all like ‘whatever’ to the dinner and the movie, and his attitude last night when we all came home was his typical, same old grouchiness as always." 

As he listened to her theory, Launchpad was beginning to look somewhat alarmed. 

"Soooo, it must have been something that happened _after_ I went to bed. After _YOU TWO_ went to bed."

Now, Launchpad looked frantic, and stopped washing the dishes altogether, and just stood there gaping at her. _Looks like I’m close to the truth_ , she thought with glee.

“So, it seems there was some sort of ‘bedtime’ part of your date that made him so happy," Gosalyn said, and Launchpad was grimacing, his face going as red as a beet. 

“Let me guess,” she said, and now he looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack.

“There was a _lot_ of….”

Gosalyn could literally see the sweat rolling down Launchpad’s face as he stared at her in horror.

“Groooooooss…” She purposely dragged it out, and Launchpad looked like he might die.

“KISSING!” She finally cried, pointing at him triumphantly, certain she'd discovered the truth.

Launchpad breathed out a long and heavy sigh and looked much calmer, all of a sudden. 

"Y-yeahh…you’re right, Gos," he admitted, giving her a nervous smile. "We got up to a lot of, um, 'gross'…. kissin'." 

A _teensy tiny_ part of her was a little unconvinced, especially because of how he paused before the word “kissin’”—it was almost like he wanted to say _something else_ —but Gosalyn couldn't imagine anything more embarrassing than that, so she let it go.

“Aha! So that was the actual _good_ part of your date, then," she said, and he blushed again, nodding.

"Wow, talk about amazing results, though. Dad must _really_ like kissing, the weirdo. Look at the effect it had on him!"

Seemingly super embarrassed and looking like he wished that he could disappear down the drain along with the dishwater, Launchpad simply nodded again as he finished up the dishes. 

_Oops,_ Gosalyn thought. _I guess I didn't help him with the cleaning that much._

Having solved the mystery of the Weirdly Happy Dad, she was bored now. "Anyway, I guess I'm gonna go play some _Wiffle Boy_. Is it okay if I play it on the TV?"

“S-Sure, Gos,” Launchpad said, face still a bit red. “Go for it, kiddo.”


	4. Operation Kissy-Face Commences!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because her dad had been in such a good mood (and not punishing her or lecturing her or anything!) after his and LP's date, Gosalyn suggests to a very embarrassed Launchpad that he take her dad on even more dates.

Gosalyn’s dad was like an angel for the rest of the day, and all of the next, too. He didn't even get mad when he tripped on her roller skates again. Just said something about, "Oh, but kids will be kids…" and cheerfully went about his business. Gosalyn couldn’t believe her luck.

But on the third day since he and Launchpad had gone on their date, his grumpiness and snark started to reappear, and before long, he was back to his normal, salty self. When he spent a good thirty minutes lecturing Gosalyn about how much of a “sty” her room was, she found herself wishing that the angelic version of her dad would come back. 

Angelic Mode Dad was kind of insufferable too, but in a different, tooth-rottingly lame kind of way. At least _he_ wouldn't have completely flipped when he discovered she had left a half-eaten pizza under her bed. He'd have probably just praised her for coming up with such a “creative decoration” for her room or something. Too bad he apparently only appeared whenever him and Launchpad went on a particularly "good" date—something that she had only recently learned had _NOTHING_ to do with the dinner and the movie—and those sorts of dates seemed kind of few and far between. 

As she considered that, a plan started to form in her head: she’d just try to get them to go on more dates! Heck, they could just skip the dinner and movie part, if what Launchpad said was true: the real _good_ part of the date was the _kissing_ , and gross as that was, if she wanted her dad off her case, she needed him and Launchpad to do a whole lot MORE of it. 

Undoubtedly, Angel Version or no, her dad would probably completely freak OUT if she suggested any advice remotely having to do with his relationship with Launchpad, so she decided that she would suggest Operation Kissy-Face to the more evenly-tempered Launchpad instead. Granted, he would probably be a little embarrassed, like he was the other day, but despite this, Gosalyn was sure that he’d still agree that there had _definitely_ been a marked difference for the better in her dad's general attitude, and that included how much more openly affectionate her dad acted towards him as well.

The day Gosalyn decided to bring up the plan to Launchpad, her dad was taking one of his forever-long showers, so she figured it was a good time, since he probably wouldn't barge in and interrupt her pitch. She found Launchpad in the garage, working on the car. 

Her dad had been complaining ( _Wow_ , _biiiiig surprise there_ ) about something going on with the car, so Launchpad was dutifully checking it out. Having more natural talent in cooking and being a stickler about keeping their house clean, her dad couldn't fix squat around the house, often exacerbating the problem whenever he tried to prove how "handy" he was. Although he often tried to fix plumbing and other issues himself first with disastrous results (before reluctantly asking Launchpad or calling the pros to fix his mess), he never tried to fix their vehicles, and left all of that to Launchpad. 

When Gosalyn approached Launchpad, all she could see of him was his legs, since he was lying on his back on one of those roller board thingies with most of his body under their car, which had been raised up on a jack. She could hear low clanking and clinking sounds as he made adjustments to something.

"Hey Launchpad!" She cheerily called out to him, and she heard him grunt as he slowly rolled out from under the car to answer her. He was sweaty and covered in grease, but his radiant grin suggested that he was in an especially good mood. He was always happy when he could be useful, and it probably made him feel good that her dad depended on him for stuff like this.

"Hey, Gos, what's up?" He stood up and grabbed a small rag to wipe his hands off on. He then reached for this giant sports drink he had set on one of the workbenches, and glugging it, drank what seemed like a gallon of it.

"So, Launchpad, um, you know how lately Dad has been super grumpy again?" 

Launchpad looked a little confused. _Well, that was fair._ Gosalyn supposed you _could_ say that her dad’s default mode _WAS_ “super grumpy,” so maybe Launchpad was thrown off by the words "lately" and "again."

"Like, for example, lately he has REALLY been on my case hard about my room and my grades and stuff." 

"Well, he cares a lot about you Gos, so he's tryin’ to help you. He might be a little prickly about it though." _Yeah, that was the understatement of the year._

"It's just, it's kind of too much sometimes, all the crankiness and lecturing and complaining about what I do. He gets on your case a lot too, doesn't he?"

"Well…yeah, I guess he does. I just try to do my best, though." He shrugged, ever the optimist.

"But it's not good enough, is it?" Here, Launchpad seemed to concede her point a bit, because he looked a little bummed.

"Anyway, do you remember the other day, when Dad was so sickeningly sweet? After your date?"

Launchpad reddened, even under all the grease. "Well, yeah, of course I do, but what--"

"What I'm saying is, I think it would be nice to see Dad in that kind of good mood more often. Don't you agree?" Gosalyn waggled her eyebrows, and Launchpad just gaped down at her.

"Yeah, it was nice, but Gos, I dunno what I can do about it."

"I think you _DO_. You gotta go on more dates with him, Launchpad." At this he flushed deeply.

"W-well,” he stammered, “Y’know, dates take a lot of time and money, so me an' him can't do it that often, Gos."

"I'm not talking about taking him out to dinner or a movie. I'm talking about the part that _counts_ ," Gosalyn said, and Launchpad gulped, apparently just now realizing where she was going with this.

"The kissing," she emphasized.

"The…kissin'," he repeated, biting his bottom lip nervously.

"I want you to take him on the gross kissy face part of your dates as much as possible, Launchpad,” she said, pointing at him like the Uncle Sam poster. “Seriously, the other day, he was like a different duck. I think we both could really benefit from a calmer, less rude version of him, don't you? Heck, the _WORLD_ could benefit from it."

Launchpad considered this for a moment. "Well, I suppose I could try it. But he might not want to, you know, uh… _kiss_ that much."

"Oh, don’t sell yourself short, big guy," Gosalyn said, clapping Launchpad on the back. "Considering how happy you made him the other day, I bet he'll be interested." 

Launchpad just gave her a weak smile and went back to tinkering with the car.


	5. Fights and Fluctuations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After she suggests to Launchpad that he take her dad on more kissing dates, Gosalyn hears them fighting at night, which bewilders her. She continues to be shocked by her dad's overly cheerful demeanor. LP seems to set a regular schedule for his and Drake's dates, but changes it up when Drake throws a particularly nasty tantrum.

The evening passed and at least as far as Gosalyn knew, Launchpad didn't try to ask her dad to go on a “kissing date”—i.e., one where they just skipped the dinner and the movie and went right for the, _bleh_ , “kissy-face” part. 

But Gosalyn realized that _something_ out of the ordinary must have apparently happened because when she woke up around 1 AM and went to get a drink of water, she could hear some muffled sounds coming from their room. It sounded like her dad was yelling at Launchpad, and uncharacteristically enough, Launchpad was yelling right back. 

_Dangit_ , she thought, rolling her eyes as she went into the bathroom, _a shouting match is the **opposite** of what needs to happen, Launchpad_. _I need you to **KISS** him, not fight with him_. After she drank some water, she went back to her room. 

_I'll talk to Launchpad about it tomorrow_ , she thought. _Maybe he somehow got confused about the plan._

But it turned out that despite their fight, Launchpad must have gotten _some_ kissing in, because the next day her dad was utterly serene and almost glowing, acting much the same as he had the other day after their date. Gosalyn could _REALLY_ tell he was in a good mood because most of the time she just rode the bus to school, but he actually offered to _drive_ her to school that morning. 

There was a surprising lack of road rage and even the little slice of hell known as the carpool drop-off lane at school didn't faze him in the least. He just looked at how all the cars in front of him were at a dead standstill and instead of leaning his head out and spewing vitriol at all the soccer moms, he just reached over and pinched Gosalyn’s cheek, saying,

"It's okay! It'll give me a few more minutes to talk to you, pumpkin!"

Gosalyn cringed a little, but she still preferred this cheery version of her dad's antics to the alternative. Despite not driving Gosalyn to school that often, due to a few prior vindictive skirmishes with said soccer moms, her dad was kind of infamous in the carpool lane. Even now, recognizing his car, some of the soccer moms in their cumbersome SUVs were giving him death glares. Since he was all Mr. Sunshine today, he just happily waved at them. Gosalyn stifled a laugh when she thought she saw one of them give him the finger, but her dad, who just kept beaming with a wide-eyed and dopey expression, was either completely oblivious to that lady’s aggression or just was just outright ignoring her. 

Her dad told her he'd pick her up in the afternoon too, and when he returned, he was still in a great mood. So much that Gosalyn dared to tell him that she bombed her math test, just to see what he would do. _An experiment, if you will_ , she thought _._

"Oh no, sweetie,” he said with concern, looking from the driver’s seat over at the big red “20/100” bleeding on her paper. “I'm so sorry. I'm sure with some practice you'll do better next time, though! If not, maybe we could see about getting you a tutor, maybe from the school? I _would_ try to help you, but my math skills leave something to be desired, unfortunately."

And he left it at that. Gosalyn was a) shocked she had somehow avoided a massive grounding and was b) just flummoxed by the fact her dad had just admitted he _SUCKED_ at something. 

_Truly, this was a miracle_ , she thought, shaking her head in amazement. _Seriously, Launchpad needed to make kissing her dad a full-time job. Then we'd ALL be on cloud nine._

\--

Perhaps encouraged by his success in getting her dad to go on another (strictly kissing) date, Launchpad apparently ramped up his efforts because judging from the fluctuations in her dad's demeanor, they were probably going on these kind of dates about every three days or so. Sometimes Gosalyn would hear them shouting in their room at night like that time before, and she still couldn’t help but wonder what in the heck that had to do with kissing. Maybe they were bored with all the kissy-face _(‘cause YUCK, who wouldn’t be?_ ), and were playing some kind of game instead? 

One day her curiosity got the better of her, so she put her ear up to their locked door—she wasn’t ashamed to say she tried to open it—straining to hear what they were shouting about. She ended up only being more confused. 

Her dad just kept yelling "Launchpad!" over and over, never adding anything to it. No argument, no complaining, no calling him an idiot or _anything_. What was even WEIRDER was how Launchpad kept yelling back "Drake!" when usually he just called him "DW." 

It was _almost_ like they weren't really fighting—but yelling at each other outside of the context of a fight didn't make a whole lot of sense to her. She decided to relegate the strange behavior to the file in her brain titled _Parents Just Plain Being Weird_ and went back to more pressing concerns, such as trying to scrounge up what was left of her allowance to see if she could afford a new video game.

Other than her dad and Launchpad’s bewildering shouting matches, sometimes from behind their door she would also vaguely hear what sounded like somebody jumping up and down on their bed, which really irked her because her dad was always yelling at her for jumping on hers. He kept nagging that she would end up “busting the box springs,” which she assumed meant destroying her bed somehow. Every time—usually late at night when she went to get herself a cup of water—that she would walk by their room and hear the squeaking, she would grimace and think, _Dad, you’re such a damn hypocrite_. 

As with the shouting, why her dad—and she assumed Launchpad too—were actively trying to "bust the box springs" on their bed wasn’t clear (maybe they wanted to break it before the warranty ran out or something? Her dad sometimes did shady stuff like that), but as long as Launchpad kept up the whole kissing routine, it ultimately didn't matter what went down in there because her dad would stay blissful, cheery and calm, and life would continue to be pretty great. 

For one, there hadn’t been nearly as many lectures or bouts of nagging, so that made her glad. But, though she was loath to admit it, life with Angelic Dad might not all be super good, because she did notice that since her dad wasn’t being as strict with her, she had definitely started to, uhh, _slack_ a little in some areas. 

For example, lately she had been doing even less than the bare minimum to clean her room: in fact, Gosalyn was pretty sure there were some mushrooms growing under her bed at this point, and she was afraid to look in her closet given all the garbage piled up in there. Grouchy Dad was kinda a pain, but it was probably a good thing he sometimes completely flipped over her gross room, because at least she’d be forced to clean it time and again. 

_Oh well_ , she thought _. Maybe I can scoop up some of the crud at some point and turn it in as a science project or something._

\---

Since Launchpad had apparently set a pretty regular schedule for their kissing dates, her dad didn't have much of a chance to return to his snarky default mode for long before being reset by Launchpad. But sometimes it seemed that Launchpad adjusted the schedule, depending on what her dad did. For example, on one of the third or fourth days between dates (which she was able to calculate because it was around when her dad usually started to be just a little bit of a grouch again), he turned out to be much more grumpy than they expected. Heck, he was downright _pissy._

It was a Saturday morning and Gosalyn was sprawled out on the living room floor, crayons scattered all around her, trying her best to draw a cool robot terrorizing a little town of stick figures. They knew what they did, the skinny little trolls. Meanwhile, her dad and Launchpad were sitting on the couch, lazily watching TV. 

Suddenly, the beloved robot-suited superhero of Duckburg (and sometimes St. Canard), Gizmoduck showed up on the screen and the voiceover was just gushing about this bestselling biography that had just come out about him. 

Gosalyn thought the whole concept of a biography for Gizmoduck was kinda weird because as a superhero, who he REALLY was needed to remain a mystery, right? So, what on Earth was that book even about? The voiceover, however, didn’t raise any such questions; just kept cooing over how amazing both Gizmoduck and his biography both were. Not to mention, how you couch potatoes at home needed to buy it, _ASAP_. _$29.95, Tax NOT included._

Knowing all too well how much her dad hated this guy, Launchpad and Gosalyn looked over at him apprehensively, wondering what kind of a response he was going to have. Now usually he should have only been a little ticked off—saying something like “Dang that Gizmoduck,” “Why I outta…” with a few grumbles, or something mild like that, but at that moment he was absolutely livid.

"Can somebody _PLEASE_ tell me WHY in the **_HELL_** Gizmoduck of _ALL PEOPLE_ gets all of the attention? EVERY. _FREAKING_. **_TIME_** _!!!_ Does NO ONE give a damn that Darkwing Duck saves St. Canard at least _WEEKLY_? The _arrogance_! The **_IGNORANCE_** _!_ "

He had stood up and was now angrily pacing the living room, yelling and shaking his fists, looking a bit like a toddler having a meltdown. Launchpad watched him for a while, then stood up and walked over to her dad, who was pulling at his cheek feathers in fury. Launchpad peered down at him, and her dad glared up at him.

"And what do YOU want, huh?” Her dad sneered up at him as if he was trying to intimidate him, which was a little comical because he was so tiny and short compared to Launchpad. “You LIKE Gizmoduck, so you probably think he _deserves_ all the glory!" 

And here, her dad _pouted_. He was _definitely_ throwing a tantrum.

"Now, I don't think that, DW, and you know it," Launchpad said calmly.

"Oh, what do YOU know, anyway?" Her dad crossed his arms and just fumed. Then Launchpad did something that shocked Gosalyn and her dad both.

Launchpad bent down, scooped her dad up like a little plush toy, and cradling him in his arms, gave him a big wet smooch before he could even react. Her eyes wide, Gosalyn immediately stuck out her tongue at the grossness, but was inwardly kind of glad Launchpad was giving her dad some much-needed “medicine.” He WAS being a little scary, after all.

"Y-you idiot," her dad stammered as Launchpad slowly broke their kiss, his face so pink his shirt paled in comparison. Despite looking every bit like an angry cat, he wasn't making any move to jump down from Launchpad's arms.

_Huh_ , Gosalyn thought, surveying how Launchpad was just kind of standing there holding her dad, and her dad, whose anger had considerably faded to a low-burning seethe, was cuddling under Launchpad’s neck, with Launchpad affectionately nuzzling him back. _This might lead to a date_ , she thought. _That said, I really don’t need a front row seat to Dad and Launchpad making kissy face, so maybe I should make like a tree and get out of here._

"Um, guys, I think I'm going to go next door an’ play with Honker," she said, and leaving her crayons and half-completed picture on the floor, Gosalyn bounded out the front door, leaving them to it. 

Sure enough, when she—a little muddy from playing in a couple puddles with Honk—came back home later that afternoon, her dad was lounging on the couch with Launchpad again, sipping tea while clad in his bathrobe, just oozing calm and good cheer. He didn’t say a word about Gosalyn’s muddy shoes she had unceremoniously abandoned at the door, such as how she was “going to ruin them like the last pair” or “didn’t I JUST BUY you new shoes recently, YOUNG LADY?” Meanwhile, Launchpad, who looked like he was wearing a different shirt than before, was sitting next to her dad, looking pretty happy, too. 

_They must have had a nice date after all_ , Gosalyn thought, even if it was a daytime one. Typically, they seemed to prefer the nighttime ones, for whatever reasons.

When the same long infommercial re-aired about Gizmoduck's biography, her dad simply said cheerfully, "Oh look, there it is again. Good for him."

But he wouldn't have been her dad if he hadn't still changed the channel. 


	6. Something's...Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day after one of Launchpad and Drake's dates, and though his demeanor is sunny and blissful, Gosalyn notices that her dad keeps saying some pretty weird stuff. Launchpad is completely bewildered by his strange outbursts and just ignores him, much to Drake's chagrin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way Drake speaks in this chapter was inspired by Good-Janet-Pretending-To-Be-Bad-Janet from the excellent show _The Good Place._

The time with her dad's violent outburst about Gizmoduck marked the beginning of how whenever he would throw a huge tantrum like that, Launchpad would immediately try to placate him, and though her dad would often scowl and heap snotty insults at him, usually it ended up with them heading up to their room for an impromptu “kissy-face” date. Gosalyn didn't bother trying to vacate anymore, since it happened randomly, and apparently not too keen on an audience ( _THANK GOD_ ), they always went to the private sanctuary of their room anyway, so she learned to just ignore it and let Launchpad work his magic.

Everything was going great until one day when her dad started acting strange. Well, she guessed she _should_ say _STRANGER._

It was the morning after one of their more shouty date nights, and by previous measurements, her dad should have been his most angelic self. And judging from his behavior he most certainly was, but Gosalyn noticed that something about his manner of speaking was weirdly _off_.

They were all finishing up breakfast together in the breakfast nook and her dad was looking at some news app on his phone. He noticed some article there, and in a louder than necessary voice said,

"My _goodness_ , they wrote another article on that _GOSH DARN_ Gizmoduck. Wellllll, they certainly have a lot of gall. _Ooh_ , that just really ruffles my tail feathers." All of this was said in the most cutesy, saccharine of tones, and once he was done, he looked at Launchpad expectantly. 

Launchpad just blinked at him, not sure what was going on. Gosalyn was confused too. _What in the heck was that about?_

Her dad bit his lip, looking a tad flustered, and went back to scrolling on his phone, but it seemed that he only did that to avoid Launchpad and Gosalyn’s perplexed gazes.

Later, her dad had gotten out the vacuum cleaner to clean the upstairs bedrooms. Gosalyn had been forced to quickly hide as much garbage as she could in her closet (even though it was _already_ pretty full) and under her bed so he could vacuum her floor. As long as he didn’t look TOO carefully, maybe she was safe. Hopefully he could respect her, ahem, "organized chaos."

Her dad was at the top of the stairs, and Gosalyn could hear him unfurling the long cord to plug it in the wall. Launchpad was downstairs with her, and they were playing Monopoly, which he was losing, _hard_. She had hotels on this long stretch of properties, and it was like a death zone. Launchpad was rounding that bend now and would certainly land on one of the squares and go bankrupt this turn, she thought excitedly. It would be YET ANOTHER victory for her.

From upstairs, they suddenly heard her dad start talking loudly, and it almost sounded like he was purposely calling down the stairs so that they would hear him.

"Gosh _DANG_ this contraption," he called, almost lovingly, apparently referring to the vacuum. " _Ooh_ , I just _haaaaate_ it when the silly filter part gets stuck like this. Makes me just wanna throw a FIT," he sweetly sang down the stairs, doing anything but 'throw a fit.' He didn’t seem like he was in the mood to throw much of anything, unless it was a party or maybe some confetti. Despite his words, he seemed genuinely happy and not in the least upset or even _miffed_ in the slightest.

Launchpad, who was holding his Monopoly piece and about to place it on one of the squares of the death zone, looked up at the ceiling in bewilderment. He then glanced at Gosalyn, searching for answers. She had none, so she just shrugged. 

Launchpad placed his piece down on Park Place, and Gosalyn cheered triumphantly, since he now owed her thousands of dollars—which he _didn’t_ have—in order to pay the costs of all the hotels she had loaded up on the space. He admitted defeat, and Gosalyn gleefully added the victory to her enormous win tally.

Upstairs, she thought she could hear her dad sigh, and then the sound of the vacuum starting up.

Like his earlier comments about Gizmoduck and the vacuum cleaner, throughout the rest of the day, her dad made several other similar remarks about this, that or the other being so "gosh _danged_ vexing" and how it just "ooh, really _tees_ me off," always in the same cheerful, saccharine way and always within earshot of Launchpad. Every time Launchpad just looked confused and ended up ignoring him.

By the time dinner was over and done with, her dad seemed to have run out of his fake-sounding "complaints" and was doing his best—however hilariously ineffectual it was—to pout. He was sitting on one end of the couch, with his arms crossed like he was angry, but even with his cheeks slightly puffed out, he still looked bright-eyed, cheerful and relaxed.

Gosalyn was lounging on the floor, replaying a level of _Wiffle Boy X8—_ there were some secrets on the underwater level she hadn’t uncovered yet _—_ when her dad suddenly stood up, went over to the other end of the couch where Launchpad was dozing, and grabbed him roughly by the scarf.

Launchpad jolted awake, and her dad said, "LP, honey, I have something I'd _really_ like for you to look at upstairs." 

Gosalyn snickered at little at this, because if he wasn’t in Angelic Mode, her dad would shoot himself in the foot with his Darkwing grappling hook before he’d EVER call Launchpad _“honey.”_

Yawning, Launchpad looked quizzically at her dad. "Is it that vacuum filter thing from earlier? Hang on, I might need to grab my toolbox in case I need to unscrew or rescrew somethin' back in."

Her dad shook his head. "Nonono. You're not too far off, though," and he whispered something in Launchpad's ear. Whatever it was apparently flustered the heck out of him because his face instantly turned redder than that math test Gosalyn bombed.

Her dad walked over to the landing and looked over once more at Launchpad before heading upstairs. Launchpad waited a few minutes, and then stood up. 

Still blushing, he said awkwardly, "Uh, I guess I'll go see about what DW wants." Gosalyn guessed that he was talking to her, but she was immersed in her game. According to the guide she read online, there was a secret door in this level somewhere that she could use as a shortcut to the boss, and it also had some great power-ups inside. 

Launchpad left, and after Gosalyn beat several more levels of her game—it was getting easier and easier to get past most of the bosses on this particular _Wiffle Boy_ —her dad and Launchpad reemerged. Her dad looked all comfortable and relaxed—so, not much different than earlier—but had apparently changed into his pajamas and robe, and Launchpad had switched from his pilot gear to a plain shirt and some gym shorts, which basically functioned as pajamas. His hair was kind of ruffIed, and he kept trying to smooth it down.

Judging from her dad’s sunny demeanor earlier in the day, Gosalyn had guessed that the two of them had already had a regular date last night, and YET…the way they were acting NOW had the familiar trappings of one of their dates around it, despite it being so soon after the last one. It was especially suspicious since the two were wearing different clothes, which was especially common after their daytime dates. 

Granted, it wasn't really clear why they needed to change _clothes_ just for kissing, but Gosalyn didn't understand the shouting matches or the jumping on the bed thing either. Leave it to adults to make _kissing_ —which was barf-inducing but at least conceptually, a very _simple_ thing— _waaaaay_ more complicated than it needed to be.


	7. A Very Busy Day for Mr. Fix-It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake starts sweetly mock-complaining about "broken" stuff in their house that he wants Launchpad to fix. Over time, Gosalyn figures out that it's just her dad's way of creating an excuse for him and LP to have more of their dates. One day, he goes overboard. RIP Launchpad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drake uses a lot of really cheesy, dumb innuendo here, so I'll apologize for that in advance.

It wasn't clear why, but over the next few weeks, suddenly they started having a TON of broken stuff in their house—or at least, her dad was constantly talking about it— and her dad kept asking Launchpad to fix all the various stuff for him. 

Instead of asking him directly like "Launchpad, the air vent upstairs is stuck again. Can you fix it?" he would do that thing where he pretended to complain, and instead say something like, "Gosh _darn_ , if the silly air vent isn't stuck again. I could just stamp my feet! So _irritating_..." even though he looked and sounded serene and _not in the least bit_ irritated. 

Hearing these kinds of remarks, Launchpad would then drop whatever he was doing, instantly look over at her dad, blush, then watch as her dad would go upstairs. The stuff that was broken was strangely ALWAYS upstairs. A frayed lamp cord here, a squeaky door hinge there, and _oh no_ , a stuck window latch over there—it was always something like that. Launchpad would then say something to Gosalyn or himself, it wasn't clear which, about needing to go up and fix whatever it was, and he would disappear for a while.

Like before, Gosalyn suspected that they were just using the “broken” stuff as an excuse to go on their kissy-face dates in the middle of the day. One time she went up to her room to grab a power cord for her game not long after they went upstairs to "rehang some blinds" and sure enough, their door was closed and she could hear somebody jumping up and down on their squeaky bed again. They really should fix _that_ instead, she thought ruefully, rolling her eyes.

One day, her dad was running Launchpad absolutely ragged with all the "fix-it" requests—all of which, she knew by now, were just a pretext for them to go upstairs and play “kissy-face.” 

It was a Saturday, and Gosalyn was glued to the TV watching a monster movie marathon on one of the classic channels. Launchpad was just relaxing on the couch, dozing a bit as he watched one of the movies with Gosalyn. Her dad had finished cleaning up the kitchen after their breakfast, and immediately afterward, slowly sidled by Launchpad, sweetly murmuring as he went upstairs, "Mmm, blast it if that danged light bulb hasn't come _UNSCREWED_ again…" and Launchpad snapped awake, instantly reddened, and with a big goofy grin, followed him.

Thirty or so minutes later, Launchpad came back downstairs, and was just about to sit down again with Gosalyn on the couch when her dad called down the stairs, " _Ooh_ , the infernal doorknob needs to be tightened and gosh _darn_ it, wouldn’t you know I don’t have a _SCREWDRIVER_ …" and with a gulp, Launchpad went back up there, and not caring about selling the lie, didn't bother going to get his toolbox first. 

Another forty-five minutes or so went by. One movie had since ended and the next, about a disgusting looking blob monster had come on. He looked like a huge slimy booger and inhaled people, so Gosalyn thought it was pretty cool. She usually rooted for the monster in these films.

Launchpad came back downstairs again, looking much more disheveled and sweaty than before. He went in the kitchen and Gosalyn could hear him at the sink, pouring himself some water when he and Gosalyn both heard the sound of her dad calling down the stairs again. This time he said something about "needing somebody to _RENAIL_ that darn picture frame to the wall" and Launchpad blanched, but quickly gulping down his glass of water, he slowly made his way upstairs again, a silly expression on his face.

When he reemerged a half hour or so later, he had apparently abandoned his pilot outfit, because he was now wearing what looked like workout gear or maybe, his pajamas: an old T shirt and some loose gym shorts. Looking worn out, he heavily sat down on one end of the couch and leaned his head back over the couch. 

The booger monster movie was about to end, and a new movie with one of Gosalyn’s favorite kinds of things—a giant evil robot—was about to start. She hoped that he had a huge laser beam to wipe out unsuspecting civilians. 

Fifteen minutes went by, and not surprisingly, they heard her dad calling again, "complaining" about some kind of " _KINK_ in the bathroom’s metal _RAILING_ that needed to be _BANGED_ out" and yet AGAIN, Launchpad wearily dragged himself back upstairs to tend to her dad's wishes. 

Gosalyn wished Launchpad would make up his mind about whether he wanted to be downstairs or not. _He was really distracting her from her movies!_

Another half hour ticked by. The cool robot movie was at a sort of boring part where the government people tried to figure out what was going on, and were talking in hushed voices in a dark room. Gosalyn wished they would cut back to the robot, who didn’t have laser beams but did have buzzsaws for hands.

Launchpad, now incredibly sweaty and looking utterly exhausted, stumbled back downstairs, his lumbering movements resembling some of the monsters Gosalyn had seen in today's film selection. He went straight into the kitchen, and since the movie was at a boring part and she was curious about the absolute wreck he had turned into, Gosalyn followed him. 

Almost delirious, he opened the fridge and quickly slammed two huge Gatorades back to back. He then basically inhaled a protein bar. 

"Hey, Launchpad, why in the heck do you look like you just ran 20 miles?" Blushing, he bit his lip, and wouldn't meet her inquisitive gaze.

"You've just been up there kissing Dad, right?” Gosalyn asked, incredulously. Launchpad simply gave her a nervous sidelong glance, seemingly too exhausted to answer.

“So how freakin' strenuous can that even be?" Accusingly, she shook her head at him. 

_Although he didn’t look it, maybe Launchpad was so out of shape even the simple act of pressing his mouth to Dad's makes him winded_ , she thought. _Poor sap. It really must suck being OLD._

"I can't keep it up," he sighed wearily, and then hurriedly added, "Err, with all these…dates! It's really gotten outta control."

"Yeah, Dad has gotten a little greedy lately, huh?"

Launchpad gave Gosalyn a wry look that said, _you don't know the half of it_. 

"He must _reaalllllly_ like to kiss you, Launchpad." And as a result, her dad's mood hadn't turned super grumpy or snarky for a _quite_ a while.

He flushed a bit. "Well, yeah, he definitely has a taste for it, way more than I thought he did, that's for sure." 

Distantly her dad was calling for Launchpad again—something about some "loose _NAIL_ that needed a good _POUNDING_ down," and hearing this, the color drained from Launchpad’s face. 

"H-he's like a vampire.." he murmured, half in awe and half as if to say, _I'm a dead man_.

Gosalyn gave him a playful kick to the seat of his pants to jolt him back to reality. "Get back in there, champ!" After all, her dad would stay blissful and out of her hair as long as Launchpad tended to him. 

Launchpad turned scarlet, but he dutifully went back upstairs to give her greedy dad even more kisses. Gosalyn went back to her movie. 

Sadly, the evil robot was destroyed by the 1950s version of superior military technology. _Oh well_. Maybe later she’d draw her own version of what the ending SHOULD have been like, where the robot became overlord.

Launchpad’s fifth date with her dad must have FINALLY satisfied her dad, because he didn't ask for any more "fix-it" help that day. What was baffling was that even though it was just kissing, Launchpad was for some reason absolutely wiped out, and passed out early that night. And here she thought _her DAD_ was a drama queen. 

Her dad, who was so exuberant he was almost LITERALLY glowing, baked a huge batch of cookies that afternoon (AND let her have some before dinner! _Holy freaking CRAP_ ) and then, after Launchpad had gone to bed, he watched some TV with her in the evening, letting her pick the show. He didn’t complain once, no matter what she chose. 

She was curious, though, what he might do if she started watching a _certain_ program, so she flipped over to it as part of yet another experiment that would test the bounds of Angelic Dad’s patience. 

Gosalyn quickly realized that her dad’s dates that day with Launchpad were apparently much, _MUCH_ better than she thought because he did something he had never done before in all the time she’d known him: he actually PRAISED _Pelican’s Island_ , saying it had, "at times, creative storylines." 

_This_ , coming from the guy who usually couldn’t stop complaining about it whenever she and Launchpad watched it. 

She could only gape at him. She'd have been less shocked if he had said he’d gone on a kissy-face date with freaking _Gizmoduck_. He smiled at her, and turned back to the show, looking genuinely interested. 

_Holy freakin’ cow,_ she thought. _Maybe she should take a picture_. _It’d last longer._

Upstairs, she could hear Launchpad snoring loudly.


	8. Too Much of a Good Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gosalyn wonders if her dad is a vampire, and notices that Launchpad has become akin to a zombie. Because the spacey, Angelic Version of her dad is always around and never punishes her, she realizes that the lack of discipline might actually be detrimental.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Negaverse is a sort of mirror of the regular world, so…take that to mean what you will, with what is going on with Negaduck. I really would like to read that fic...
> 
> Also, the idea of a _Twilight_ version of Drake is kind of cursed, but makes me laugh. Hopefully it is amusing to you all as well.

Although Gosalyn’s dad and Launchpad never had as many dates on the same day as that one insane day with all the "fix it" requests, it still seemed like they had dates, maybe more than one, _every single day_ , because her dad's attitude was at a constant glowing, saccharinely sweet level. Nowadays Launchpad seemed to constantly have a dopier than usual grin on his face, but he also seemed to be suffering to a certain degree from physical exhaustion. 

Gosalyn vaguely wondered if what he had off-handedly said the other day was true: maybe her dad somehow really _was_ a vampire and was slowly sucking him dry. Darkwing Duck being a vampire wasn’t really _that_ much of a stretch, after all. He had DARK right there in his name, he was over-the-top dramatic, and he was generally a creature of the night…But that would also mean he drank blood, which was too weird, even for her dad. Not to mention _gross_.

She pushed these thoughts aside, assuring herself that, _whatever,_ _vampires aren’t real_ , but then was shocked to her core one day when, sitting with her dad and Launchpad at the breakfast table, she noticed some large red welts on Launchpad's neck. There weren’t just the two bite marks, but _several_ —indicative of MULTIPLE feedings?!—but when she looked closer, they seemed to be more akin to bruises than the marks left by the piercing fangs of a vampire. 

Nevertheless, she was now VERY suspicious of her dad, and as he bit into his toast, scrutinized him next, looking to see if he was somehow now sporting fangs. He wasn’t, but she DID notice that he had even **more** welts all over _his_ neck. 

_Wait, what?_ She was confused, and thought long and hard about the odd spectacle in front of her. 

After considering it for a while, she came to this conclusion: unless her dad had turned Launchpad into his thrall or something and they were feeding off each other—she was pretty sure she’d seen a movie like that once—she chalked up the angry looking welts on her dad and Launchpad to what they were, most likely: some pretty aggressive mosquito bites. It was kind of weird that the bites were concentrated on their necks and nowhere else, though. 

She gripped her own neck in apprehension, thinking, _maybe mosquitoes prefer neck blood._ _Turtlenecks are pretty lame, but they might be good at preventing horrific bites like that. Maybe that’s why Dad likes to wear one with his Darkwing outfit. Looks like he needs to start wearing one at home too, though._

Although she was still a bit suspicious that her dad might be a vampire, she had to admit that her dad didn't look a thing like most vampires she'd seen on TV; if anything, he looked healthier than the month or so before him and Launchpad started going crazy with all the dates. Instead of having dull, sunken out eyes like the undead she’d seen in monster movies, his eyes were bright and glittering. Not only that, far from having dead, blue-looking skin of your typical vampire, his body feathers were dewy and his hair looked like he had been overdoing it with the conditioner. “Shiny” was a way to describe him. Heck, there were moments he even seemed to _sparkle_. Maybe he was a different kind of vampire, like the ones from the teen girl romance books.

Launchpad, on the other hand, looked more like a traditional vampire, or more accurately, a _zombie_ : he had bags under his eyes, like he needed some sleep, and in general looked a bit disheveled. His clothes never seemed to be tucked in right—everything was slightly askew. He was even more zombie-like because he mumbled a lot and seemed to be half asleep. He was the happiest zombie there ever was, though, because he never stopped having a huge kind of dreamy, goofy grin plastered on his face. Gosalyn quickly realized that it was sort of pointless to talk to him unless you wanted to hear him repeat stuff a lot. It was like he was constantly thinking about something else and was completely distracted to whatever was going on. 

Crime had been quiet lately, which was probably a good thing. What with her dad being all sweet and nonconfrontational and Launchpad spacing out all the time, Gosalyn imagined that it would be hard for them to bust the bad guys. If they tried to fight in this state, Launchpad would probably just dopily stare at the wall, and instead of kicking butt like he should, her dad would do something like sweetly invite Megavolt or Quackerjack or somebody to partake in some gingerbread cookies he’d brought along as a snack. It wouldn’t end well.

Negaduck especially would be a dangerous foe for them to fight right now, but as far as Gosalyn knew, he had been AWOL for quite a while, as he hadn't appeared on the news recently—and like the “Normal” version of her dad, he was addicted to hogging the limelight, so they'd definitely know if he was around. Maybe lately he was satisfied with just causing havoc back in the Negaverse. Who really knew with that guy.

\--

As her dad was constantly in Angelic Mode these days, Gosalyn began to notice that her dad, while not as zonked out as Launchpad, was also sort of spacey, because even with stuff he probably SHOULD have a bigger reaction to, he kind of just waved it away. There was that one time weeks ago when she SOMEHOW avoided punishment despite her crappy results on her math test—honestly, she deserved a grounding for that—but recently that same kind of good luck had become pretty much commonplace. It was like she was living with cheat codes on. 

On the one hand, she was glad she could get away with almost anything, but on the other hand, she could get away with _almost anything!_ It didn’t feel right. She was shocked at herself, but the lack of discipline was starting to weigh on her.

One afternoon Gosalyn was SURE that, Angelic Dad or no, she’d be punished when, playing baseball with Honk, she ended up breaking two windows ( _Score!_ she thought at the time, but then instantly regretted it) and reluctantly went inside to face the music. Her dad was turned away from her, gripping the baseball in one hand and standing near the shattered glass that littered their living room floor. 

_Oh crap, here it comes,_ she thought, wincing, but at the same time, she was oddly hopeful.

He turned around, and instead of glaring at her and laying down the law, he had a huge smile on his face. 

"Gos, sweetie! We gotta get you signed up for a team! The force behind that swing must have been incredible, ‘cause look at these windows. They didn't stand a chance! Well done, slugger!” He gushed all at once, and stepped forward to ruffle her hair.

Gosalyn had been bracing herself, expecting the worst. She certainly didn't expect to be CONGRATULATED on a window well busted. Or two, to be exact. _This was too freaking weird. She needed to be punished for this—it was only right!_

"Um, Dad, I broke your windows, so don't you think I should maybe, I DUNNO, be grounded or something?" _He’s sort of a space cadet lately,_ she thought. _Maybe he forgot what grounding even was and needs to be reminded_.

"Oh no,” he said, waving a hand in front of him, dismissing the idea. “Now why in the world would you need to be grounded, sweetie? The windows are just _things_ —we can replace them! I'm just so tickled to know that my little girl is such an amazing athlete!" And he swept her up in a big hug. 

Gosalyn just grimaced. _Jeez, was she really going to have to punish herself around here?_

So, in an effort to do just that, she decided to force herself to try to clean her room (which she was supposed to be doing all along, but still), but it was so disgusting in there she didn't really know where to start. Angelic Mode Dad, "respecting her boundaries," only ever vacuumed the floor in her room and never touched any of the candy and food wrappers, crumpled papers, piles of rank laundry or the growing robust mushroom forest under her bed. The closet was too scary to open anymore. Everything seemed kind of…. _sticky_. 

_Oh my God…why did I let it get like this?_ She lamented, dramatically throwing herself across her bed, but she knew the reason. _Dad hasn't been threatening me with an all-beet dinner or anything like that, so I haven't bothered trying to keep it clean._

Oof, and don’t get her started on her grades lately. A month or so ago, her dad would have flipped his freakin’ lid over some of the quizzes and homework grades she had been bringing home lately. She could hear the lectures now, and her video games would probably be taken away for a while too, but somehow, she felt maybe like there was something _good_ about that. Because nowadays, if her dad happened to notice a less-than-ideal mark on one of her papers, he would just try to console her—as if she was _that_ bummed out about it—and ask her if she wanted some tutoring help from Honker or somebody from school. Honestly, she probably needed some help, but she always declined (because homework was _LAME_ ), and the chipper, super pleasant version of her dad would never push the issue. She hated to admit it, but she really just needed her dad to go back to normal.

But how could she get that to happen? She knew that she was the one who had initially suggested that Launchpad should try distracting her dad with all their dates, but as she should have expected with those two, the situation got out of control. Seriously, she probably should have seen it coming that her dad would go _OVERBOARD_ with something. 

_Be careful what you wish for,_ she thought ruefully. _Cause I got it!_ Instead of having a break now and then from Normal Dad’s tirades—which had been her goal in the first place—he’d completely _disappeared_ and now Angelic Dad was killing her with the whole no discipline thing. Not to mention with all the cookies and cakes and stuff, his sweetness was probably _literally_ giving her cavities, too. 

And poor Launchpad. She wasn’t sure why _kissing_ of all things wore him out so bad, but it seemed he probably needed a break from the dates too.

She _could_ try to approach Launchpad again and try to suggest that maybe they should cut back on the dates, but it seemed to her the one who was being greedy about it was her _dad_ , not Launchpad. Plus, lately Launchpad was so out of it he’d probably immediately forget what she even said. She could imagine giving him the entire spiel and him just being like, “Heh, gee, yeah…. _what?_ ” 

But how to breach the subject if she approached her dad instead? Her dad was kind of sensitive ( _understatement of the freakin' century_ ) so she couldn’t really just say _Hey Dad, cut it out with all the kissing. I need you to be a grouch again and Launchpad’s gonna die if you keep it up._ Maybe, if she was _reeaaalllly_ delicate about it, and spoke in hypotheticals, it might sink in? She didn’t really want to butt in more than she needed to, but somebody needed to say SOMETHING. 

It turned out Cloud Nine wasn’t as idyllic as she’d once thought.


	9. Hypotheticals and Zombies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gosalyn has a little chat with her dad.

Gosalyn remembered a time— _once upon a time_ , she thought, feeling like Moses or some old guy— before her dad and Launchpad started going nuts with all the dates, when her dad used to be pretty shy—and would instantly get _pissy_ —if any subjects were even remotely brought up dealing with his and Launchpad’s relationship. This included the ideas of dates, kissing, Valentine’s Day, hugs—and _heaven help you_ if you mentioned marriage or weddings—if they were somehow, even nebulously, connected with the concept of Launchpad. 

Gosalyn didn’t think he was shy about it because he and Launchpad were two guys and he was nervous about bringing that concept up with her—there were plenty of kids at school who had two moms or two dads—but she assumed it was more because her dad was just sort of romantically awkward (read: a huge freaking _dork_ ) and got embarrassed by the mushy stuff. This often meant if Launchpad tried to kiss him in front of Gosalyn or—if he was _reeaaaally_ looking forward to his daily gut punch— nuzzling her dad in front of the _neighbors_ , her dad would angrily lash out. Even with the warning jabs and death glares from her dad, Launchpad didn’t seem to care at all though, and openly displayed his affection. Maybe he was just a sucker for punishment, and got a kick out of…well, trying to avoid her dad’s kicks.

But that was how her dad had been **_before_** all the dates. It had probably only been about a month or two, but it seemed like _years_ had gone by. The grouchy, cantankerous version of her dad hadn’t been around in quite a while, replaced by that saccharinely sweet, potentially-a-vampire version that Gosalyn was recently realizing needed to _seriously_ take a hike. 

Seeing this version of her dad lately, one would conclude that he’d buried the hatchet on the idea of avoiding or trying to punish Launchpad’s PDA. It was still bewildering—and made her inwardly groan, _Ewww!!_ because it was her _parents_ —to see him just blush and accept Launchpad’s affection. It was even more insane when he would instigate the PDA himself: Gosalyn had to pinch herself, _because she HAD to be dreaming_ , when she saw her dad standing on tippy toes giving Launchpad a kiss on the cheek in the grocery store recently—you know, in front of _PEOPLE_. Launchpad obviously was thrown for a loop himself, because red-faced and spaced out, he promptly crashed in the produce section, sending fruit flying everywhere.

It was because the Angelic Version of her dad was like this—i.e., much more openly affectionate ( _maaaybe a bit too much_ ) and less shy about the fact that he and Launchpad were a thing—that Gosalyn thought that maybe he’d be a little bit more okay with her talking to him about the teensy tiny little problem going on in their house lately. Namely, that she NEVER got punished anymore and the fact that Launchpad was such a zombie that he looked like he was gonna pass out at any moment. All of this of course stemming from the fact that her dad and Launchpad had taken the whole kissy-face date thing way too far (even if she had initially suggested the whole more-dates thing to Launchpad). 

Still, though, she needed to be very careful about how she broached this subject, even if this version of her dad might be more receptive. Timing and phrasing would be EVERYTHING. She’d have to be as delicate as when she was playing _Wiffle Boy_ and only had one life and no hits left, when any wrong move would be an insta-kill.

She decided the perfect time to act would be when her dad was in his best mood: preferably early morning and when he was preoccupied with something, like washing the dishes or some cooking he was doing. It would probably also be for the best if Launchpad wasn’t in the room because then there’d be no chance for them to get distracted by each other and interrupt her important conversation. 

She waited for her chance to pounce, and finally, one Sunday morning the opportunity presented itself. Launchpad hadn’t come downstairs to eat breakfast (which was _very_ odd for him) and even though it was only around 8:30 in the morning, her jovial dad was already baking something. Gosalyn had finished her breakfast and after carefully putting her dish in the sink, slowly sidled up to him. He was cheerfully peering into the oven, checking on what looked to be a chocolate cake.

“Um, Dad, I wanted to talk to you about something…” she began, putting on her rare but necessary Serious Tone. 

Slamming the oven door shut, her dad instantly snapped to attention and whirled around to face her. “Oh no, sweetie! Were the waffles this morning bad? I’m sorry, pumpkin, I knew I should have made them a little sweeter…” 

He looked wistful at what he likely saw as a missed opportunity, as if the waffles hadn’t been tooth-rottingly sweet already.

“No, Dad,” she said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Both Angel Dad and Grouchy Dad really knew how to completely miss the point. “I, uh, wanted to ask your opinion on something.” He waited, looking at her with concern and maybe a little bit of apprehension. Time to drop some serious hints to her dad about what was vexing her.

“Well, I have this friend and he”—here, she chose a different pronoun to make it less obvious that she was talking about herself—“has a really nice dad, but lately he hasn’t been grounding him, even when he was REALLY, _REALLY_ BAD,” Gosalyn began to explain, and as he listened to her, her dad’s eyes began to narrow a tiny bit. 

“Like, for fun, he cut shapes out of the fabric from his dad’s dress shirts, and his dad didn’t do ANYTHING, just waved it away like it was nothing.” Gosalyn hadn’t actually done this, but she had thought once or twice about vandalizing some of her dad’s particularly gaudy ties, to not only put them out of their misery but prevent them from _causing_ any to those unfortunate enough to see those garish patterns.

“Hmm,” her dad murmured, seeming to consider what she said. “Well, that wasn’t very nice of your friend, but I’m sure his dad understood he was just being creative. Maybe your friend’ll be an artist one day, who knows,” he said brightly, but a telltale furrow was settling between his brows.

_Ohhhh no_ , she wasn’t going to let her dad just weasel out of this with the old “creative soul” dodge. 

“Or he’ll just be a complete jerk!” Giving him a stern look, she waggled her finger at her dad, and he look a bit chastised. “He just does whatever he wants. It’s not _right_ that he never gets punished for stuff—don’t you think so, Dad?”

“Well…” And before he could finish saying whatever excuse he was about to make up, the timer for the cake went off. Putting on some oversized purple oven mitts, he took the cake out of the oven to cool and started stirring up some ingredients for frosting.

“I think that his dad is WAY too soft on him, and SOMEDAY, it’ll end up being a problem.” Gosalyn then said, her hands on her hips. Her dad gave her a worried sidelong glance, looking like the wheels were finally turning in his head.

_Time for a finishing move_ , she thought. “With no punishment, heck, who knows, he might turn into a VILLAIN one day,” and at the word “villain,” a look of horror and alarm crossed her dad’s face, and he accidentally cracked an egg too hard, rupturing it and its shell haphazardly into the frosting. 

_Yes, Dad, imagine ME turning into a villain. That would be the ultimate nightmare for you as a dad AND as a hero. And it would be ALLLLL your fault, because you never grounded me when I flunked my math test or broke your windows._

Of course, Gosalyn didn’t really believe all of this, but she wanted her dad to _think_ it. And from the distraught look on his face, he definitely _was_.

Well, that seed of doubt had been successfully planted. Now on to Phase Two of _Operation: Return of Grouchypants_.

“Oh, by the way, Dad,” she said brightly, swiftly changing the subject even though her dad still was obviously wallowing in a cloud of distress from the bomb she’d just dropped. “I was also thinking about what’s been going on with Launchpad recently…”

At this, her dad, even though he was in Angelic Dad mode, gave her a sharp look. As she’d suspected, even with the cheerful saccharinely-sweet version of her dad, this was dangerous territory.

“What _about_ him?” There was the teeniest bit of an edge to his voice.

“I dunno, it seems like he’s kinda… _tired_ lately, huh?” The faintest hint of a blush dusted her dad’s cheeks.

“Oh, I don’t know, sweetie. He seems fine to me,” her dad said dismissively, voice returning to its cheerful lilt. He had picked the eggshells out of the frosting and was stirring it up, about to slather it on the cake. 

“Um, _HELLOOOO_ , you DID notice he didn’t come downstairs for breakfast, right, Dad?” She looked at him incredulously. “Think about that: **_LAUNCHPAD_** skipped breakfast! That’s like Scrooge McDuck giving away all of his money, or Honk’s dad having a degree. It’s just too freakin’ _WEIRD_.” 

“Well, I think Herb _does_ have an MBA,” her dad said absently, holding up the cake spatula thoughtfully. “But as for Launchpad, I think he just wanted to sleep in, sweetie.”

“Yeah, _riiight_. ‘Sleep in.’ He LOOKS like he’s about to take a dirt nap,” Gosalyn muttered, emphasizing Launchpad’s recent zombie-like nature. “I’m worried about him, Dad. Something’s been really _WEARING HIM OUT_.”

Since she was 99% sure _HE_ was the one who kept dogging Launchpad for all their kissing dates, surely her dad knew EXACTLY _what_ that “something” was.

He did. Hearing her words, he immediately dropped the cake spatula on the floor, and turned bright red. The flicker of displeasure that subsequently crossed his features showed that Grouchy Dad was still in there, somewhere. 

“Gosalyn,” he said warningly, “I’m **_SURE_** he’s fine. Anyway, I need to finish this up, so would you _pleeease_ go play?” It was probably the closest thing she’d get to grounded while he was in this mode, but it was still a huge improvement.

“Okay, Dad,” she said, a little triumphantly, and promptly left the room. Now it was time to see if what she’d said would have any effect on their situation. Maybe later she’d show him her report card—which had come recently—and see if he’d finally flip completely and GROUND her, the way he was _SUPPOSED_ to.

It turned out, though, that she might not have really needed to have this little chat with her dad in the first place, because of what happened with Launchpad later that night.


	10. Their Zombie, Reanimated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What should have been a normal dinner turns into a trip to the hospital. The word "moderation" finally enters Drake and Launchpad's vocabulary (figuratively and literally).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a little bit of blood, mention of IVs (needles) and some angsty moments.
> 
> The nurses are lovingly based on some I've known IRL, including my own mom.

It was around 6 PM later that night, and all three of them were in the kitchen, getting ready to eat dinner. Her dad had made some kind of decadent baked macaroni casserole and had asked Gosalyn to set the table. She did so in record time—who _cares_ if the plates didn’t match—and sat down, swinging her legs in anticipation, ready to chow down. 

Launchpad was already sitting down, looking like an absolute wreck, which unfortunately was pretty typical these days. He looked woozy and his skin had a weird kind of blue tinge to it. If he had looked over to Gosalyn and started muttering, “BRAINS….” she wouldn’t have been the least bit shocked. Looking at the way he was now, him ACTUALLY being a zombie seemed like it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. 

Her dad finished whatever he was doing over at the stove and carrying the casserole, set it carefully on the table. “Okay, here you go, you two. Sorry for the wait,” he beamed, and with a large spatula, scooped out portions for each of them. As usual, he gave himself and Gosalyn more or less equal portions, but tripled it for Launchpad, who under normal circumstances, would have probably still asked for seconds.

But tonight, Launchpad just kind of stared down at his plate and didn’t eat, even though Gosalyn and her dad had already started.

Her dad, who was sitting to his left, touched his arm, looking a tad concerned that Launchpad hadn’t even begun to touch his food. “LP? What’s wrong, honey?” 

Gosalyn sensed danger in the air, and stopped chewing, her eyes glued to Zombie Launchpad.

Launchpad was gaping down at her dad, and he somehow went even paler. “I-uh, um…” 

And he immediately fainted, striking his head on the edge of the table with a sickening crack. 

Macaroni went flying, and once the dust cleared it was obvious Launchpad, who was crumpled in a massive heap on the floor, was bleeding profusely from a worryingly deep gash above his eyebrow.

Gosalyn's jaw dropped, and her dad immediately _FREAKED_. **“LAUNCHPAD!!!! OH _SHIT!!!_ ”**

With Gosalyn trying her best to help, her dad, probably thanks to an adrenaline rush, managed to frantically throw the half-awake Launchpad, who seemingly weighed half a million tons, in the backseat of their car. Gosalyn sat in the back with him, helping press a towel up to his forehead in order to stave off the bleeding.

Her dad, who was sobbing inconsolably, drove them as fast as humanly possible to the ER. Gosalyn had never seen him cry so much. In fact, she was a little worried his vision would be blurred by all the tears and they’d end up getting into a wreck—as if the night wasn’t already bad enough. Her dad kept looking in the rearview mirror at where she was straining to prop the half-conscious—and very heavy—Launchpad up, all the while holding the bloody cloth to his head. Seeing that, her dad would then whimper, “Oh, Launchpad…” and just saying that would bring on fresh tears.

The bleeding had stopped by the time they got to the ER, but it was clear even before Launchpad was seen that he would need several stitches. He was awake now, but he still looked just as woozy and pale as he did before he took his impromptu dive into their kitchen table. 

When Launchpad was finally called in, the doctor determined that not only did he need stitches, he probably needed to stay overnight, because he was suffering from moderate-to-severe dehydration and needed prompt IV fluids, after which they needed to run tests to make sure he was stable. This of course sent her dad into fresh hysterics, as if he wasn’t already a blubbering mess. In fact, in some ways her dad looked worse off than Launchpad, and he _wasn’t_ the one suffering from a gash on the head and dehydration.

The doctor noticed his distress and tried to console her dad, assuring him Launchpad would probably be fine by the next morning, but her dad just wailed, wiping his tears—and probably snot—on his sweater vest, soaking it. Gosalyn gave her trembling dad a side hug and assured the doctor that she’d try to calm him down.

Even Launchpad, who was sprawled on the crinkly patient exam table, the first of several IV drips attached to his arm, tried to help. “Aw, don’t worry, DW,” he said weakly, smiling up at her bleary-eyed dad. “I’ll be okay…”

Her dad gripped Launchpad’s huge, limp hand between his two tiny ones, his lip trembling as he peered down at him. “Oh, LP…I’m so sorry. I was so stupid…I didn’t notice…” he trailed off, and the two of them just gazed fixedly at each other with faraway looks in their eyes, looking every bit like a scene ripped from a soap opera. 

Of course, Gosalyn had been just as shocked and horrified as her dad was by Launchpad’s condition initially, but by now they knew what to expect, and he wasn’t gonna die. Heck, he already looked a lot better and he’d only just now gotten started on the IV drip. 

But as USUAL, her dad was going overboard with the dramatics. Wishing she had had the wherewithal to have brought her game along, since it sounded like it was gonna be a long night, she collapsed heavily into one of the side chairs in the exam room, having no choice but keep an eye on Launchpad and observe her dad’s antics. It was either that or read _Highlights_ , that weird doctor’s office magazine that was both somehow new and from 900 years ago.

Within a couple of hours, Launchpad had been stitched up and moved to a regular hospital room where he was continuing his IV treatment. Her dad refused to leave his side, but by this point, Gosalyn was completely bored and ended up wandering the halls, peeking into other patients’ rooms and venturing to the end of the corridor, looking out the huge windows at the twinkling lights of the city beyond.

Her dad had given her a few bucks to get some stuff out of the vending machine, and after she had bought a bag of tiny cookies and some grape soda, she headed back to the room. Before she got there, she overheard two nurses chatting at the nurse station in the center of the hall. Gosalyn paused within earshot (but out of their eyeline), curious as to what they were talking about, since the subject sounded very familiar. 

“Believe it or not, tonight’s been pretty quiet for me. How’re you doing with Room 402? Sounded like trouble to me,” a tall nurse, who looked like her blood was 50% coffee, said as she shuffled some papers around on the counter.

“I thought so too, at first,” replied a raven-haired nurse, who was sipping from an ancient-looking mug that read _Get Between Me and My Coffee at Your Own Risk_. “But the troublesome family member—short little guy who I’m guessing is 402’s partner—calmed down eventually. Now Short Stuff’s absolutely fussing over him—trying to do my job for me,” she smiled wryly. 

“It’s cute until they get in the way,” the tall nurse said, shaking her head.

“Well, he probably won’t try to interfere when I take the line out. Judging from all the theatrics earlier, he might be a fainter,” the raven-haired nurse said, snickering a bit. “That won’t be for a while though. In fact, 402’s due for more fluid replacement.”

“He came in for dehydration?”

“Mm-hmm. Bad enough case that he ended up passing out and gashing his head. Eleven stitches.”

“Shit. How’d his doting little partner not notice?” Tall Nurse asked, chewing on a pen.

“Not sure, but Half-Pint seems to be beating himself up pretty hard about it now, though,” Raven-haired Nurse said, shrugging.

“Makes ya wonder how the patient got so dehydrated…” Tall Nurse said thoughtfully.

“Who knows? But judging from how Sweet'n Low’s been acting, I doubt he’ll ever let _that_ happen again,” and with that, Raven-haired Nurse left in the direction of Room 402, which of course was where Launchpad was. 

Gosalyn trailed behind her, clutching her snacks, smiling a bit to herself about how _PISSED_ her dad would have been if he’d known about the height-related nicknames this lady had given him.

Gosalyn came in the room right as the nurse had finished quickly switching out the IV bag. Her dad was sitting at Launchpad’s bedside, clasping his hand as he drifted in and out of sleep. The nurse addressed her dad.

“It looks like this is the last bit that the doctor ordered. We’ll be along later to check his levels, and if it all looks good, he’ll be able to go home,” she said, and her dad nodded. The nurse then promptly left. Gosalyn opened her bag of cookies, and munching them, sat down on the somewhat uncomfortable chair in the corner of the room. 

With his tearstained cheeks, red eyes, and soaked shirt, her dad looked like a mess. Meanwhile, Launchpad was looking more like his old self again, albeit with a huge bandage on his head. This whole night had been kind of hellish, but at least he might get a really cool scar out of it. 

Gosalyn was dozing, half-finished cookie bag still on her lap, when she thought she heard her dad whispering. She pretended to be asleep, and strained her ears to hear what they were talking about.

“I’m so sorry, LP,” her dad murmured.

“What for, DW?” Launchpad was awake now, and sounded much better.

“For not paying attention to your condition. God, I’m such an idiot,” and his voice started to waver like he was going to start crying again. 

Before Launchpad could respond, he continued. “And not only _THAT_ —I, uh, shouldn’t have been so, err… _persistent_ ,” he said. “Last night, and this morning, not to mention pretty much every day this past week…” He sounded flustered. 

“Whaddya mean?” At first Launchpad seemed confused, but then apparently something clicked. “Oh…right.” 

_Oh_ , Gosalyn thought. _They must be talking about the whole kissing-date thing._

“I-I got so carried away, LP, and I am so, so sorry…”

“Gee, well, it wasn’t like I ever said no to ya. So honestly, I wanted it _too much_ , too,” Launchpad said in his kind, reassuring tone. 

Then he added with a somewhat darker lilt, “Wanted _you_ too much…”

Her dad made a strange kind of low-pitched, humming noise in response, and after this exchange, suddenly Gosalyn wished she were _anywhere_ but here. 

“Just gotta learn how to pace ourselves…” Launchpad murmured, as if to himself.

“Practice some restraint…” Her dad offered, in a similarly soft tone.

“Modulation…” Here, Launchpad sounded breathless.

“ _Moderation_ , LP..” Her dad corrected, in barely a whisper, but his voice sounded playful.

“Mm-hmm, right… _that_.” Now, Launchpad sounded a little muffled, as if something was blocking his mouth.

_Urrrrrrrgh. She couldn’t stand it anymore!_ Gosalyn finally opened her eyes and she jolted upright, ready to bolt. She seriously needed to get out of here before this went to Mush-Town. 

But glancing over at her dad and Launchpad, it was clear that unfortunately, they were already there. Her dad was perched on the side of the hospital bed, and him and Launchpad were embracing and just smooching away.

“DAAAAAAAD!!” She yelled, startling them both. Launchpad just looked kind of sheepish lying there, with his big bandage on his forehead and the IV in his arm. Meanwhile, her dad had taken a flying leap off the side of the bed, his face scarlet, and his hand clutching at his chest as if he was trying to keep his heart from bursting out.

“G-Gosalyn,” he muttered, trying to catch his breath. “We, uh, thought you were asleep. We were just, erm, trying to have a little heart-to-heart chat.”

_Uh huh, more like lip-to-lip,_ she thought ruefully. She just shot him her best _‘I don’t believe your CRAP’_ look. 

Her dad smoothed down his crumpled, still-damp-looking sweater vest combo. “I guess I finally realized I need to take better care of our favorite pilot,” and he gave Launchpad an adoring look. 

Although it wasn't too reassuring given how he and Launchpad were all smoochy-smoochy just fifteen seconds ago—she guessed old habits probably die hard—but MAYBE she could hope that it had finally sunk into her dad's thick skull that he needed to _AT LEAST TRY_ to cool it with the kissing dates.

“So, does that mean what I think it means? Oh, thank FREAKING GOD,” Gosalyn said, sighing with relief. Her dad raised an eyebrow at her, apparently not understanding why she was so reassured at his revelation.

“What—” he began, but she interrupted him.

“You know, moderulation or whatever," and her dad visibly cringed as she said this, probably realizing she had been listening into their earlier conversation. 

"In other words, it means that you and Launchpad are _finally_ gonna CUT IT OUT with all the kissing dates!” 

_Grouchy Dad would come back, and Launchpad would go back to normal too. Life in general would be normal again!_

Although his face reddened at her words, her dad looked completely confused and a tiny bit miffed. 

“ _EXCUSE ME_ , what in the hell is a ‘kissing date’?”

_Yeah, riiiight, Dad. As if you and Launchpad haven’t written the freaking BOOK on it at this point_ , Gosalyn thought, and just shook her head at him. 

Watching their exchange, Launchpad paled a little, but thankfully, _this time_ he didn’t pass out.


	11. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With both her dad and Launchpad more or less back to normal, Gosalyn feels grounded after getting, well, grounded.

“Um, Gosalyn, do you think we should, uh, be playing soccer so close to your house? It would probably be better to not repeat what happened last time,” her best friend Honker said, as he stood in their yard, about ten or so feet from their front door, nervously waiting for her to pass the ball to him. The sun was beating hard down on them, but Honker was probably sweating just as much out of fear as he was from being overheated. 

“What happened last time again?” And she kicked the ball hard, and he groaned as it struck him in the shins _. Hey, at least he stopped it this time though_ , she thought proudly.

“Well, it was baseball that time, not soccer. But you ended up breaking some windows,” Honk said, and with a somewhat weak kick, passed the ball back to her.

“Eh, Dad was all space cadet-y then, so I didn’t get grounded,” she said, shrugging, winding up for a big kick. 

“S-sounds like a miracle,” Honk said, and seeing her about to send the ball violently his way, started to cower.

At that exact moment, her dad opened the front door behind Honker, and called out to her.

“GOSA-“

She couldn’t stop her kick in time, and sent the ball flying right over Honker, beaning her dad right in the sweater-vested gut. The force of the kick sent him flying backwards back into the house, where he was collapsed in a Dad-shaped heap.

_Oh crap_. “G-GOSALYNNNN…” She could hear him angrily growling even from out here in the yard. 

Honker winced and gave her an _I-don’t-envy-you-right-now_ look. “Uh, I gotta go, Honk!” She called over her shoulder, grimacing as she ran inside.

When she passed through the front door, she saw that Launchpad had appeared, and extending a huge hand, was helping up the pissed-off-looking pile that was her dad. It had been several days since the hospital incident, and other than the bandage on his head, Launchpad looked like the pinnacle of health.

Her dad, on the other hand, had lost his vampiric sheen, and had more or less returned to his normal, grumpy self. 

“Wow, Dad, you’re a pretty crappy goalie,” she said, fetching her ball as her dad staggered to his feet. Behind him, Launchpad looked like he was trying his best to bite back a laugh.

“Now listen here, little missy,” her dad began, wheezing a bit and sounding like the wind was still kicked out of him, “What have I told you about playing ball so close to the house?”

“That I could end up breaking windows…” she groaned, rolling her eyes. _What was the REAL reason he called her in?_

“Not only that! Somebody could get hurt!”

“ _Somebody_ didn’t get hurt, though. It was just YOU,” she said, pointing at him. He just clapped a hand to his face in frustration. Chuckling a bit at their antics, Launchpad started to sidle past the pair, looking like he was going to head outside.

“ANYWAY, that’s not what you’re in trouble for! Have you SEEN your room lately? The city dump is more sanitary than that sty! Don’t think I haven’t noticed that there are _MUSHROOMS_ —” and here, her dad paused, noticing Launchpad trying to sneak out the front door.

“HEY! Where do you think _you’re_ going, LP?” Launchpad froze, grinning nervously.

“Well, heh, there’s some maintenance pilin’ up I thought I’d do,” he said sheepishly. “Ya know, the car’s due for an oil change and—" Launchpad started to open the door.

“Oh no, you don’t. You’re not going outside in that heat in YOUR condition, mister,” her dad said, walking over to the door and pushing it shut, all the while waggling a finger up at Launchpad. Launchpad grimaced, looking over at Gosalyn with a look that said, _Oh dang, I’m busted, too_. 

She shrugged, giving him a sympathetic grin. _I guess it’s a two-for-one deal for being nagged at by Dad today_ , she thought.

“Tsk, tsk. Look at the state of that dressing," her dad said, as he pulled Launchpad down by the scarf so that he could inspect where Launchpad's stitches were covered up by a dingy-looking bandage. "Don’t you think we should change your bandage soon?” Here, Launchpad looked like he was thinking, _Oh Lord, here we go_. 

“And have you been drinking enough? In fact, _BOTH OF YOU_ should probably have some water,” and with that, her dad turned on his heel and went into the kitchen, soon reemerging with two big icy glasses of water, which he pressed into their hands. Gosalyn realized that she actually was pretty thirsty, and eagerly started drinking.

“Aw come on, DW,” Launchpad protested, but he accepted the glass anyway. “I’m okay now. I just wanna get some work done.” 

Her dad didn't respond right away, and instead just glared up at Launchpad, pointing at his glass until Launchpad took the hint and finally took a big gulp of his water.

Satisfied, her dad spoke at last. “It’s too hot, LP! Maybe you can work on that stuff next week, or next month—wait, no, we’ll be getting closer to summer then,” he said thoughtfully, and Launchpad groaned. “Look, the last thing I need is you back in the hospital again,” her dad grumbled, crossing his arms. "Makes me worry so much," he whispered, blushing a bit.

At this, Launchpad swept him up in a hug, sloshing a little of his water on both him and her dad, who scowled at both the PDA and the impromptu spritz. “Aww, thanks for thinkin’ so much about me, DW. But honest, I’m alright now."

Then, Launchpad's voice took on a strange kind of soft, dark lilt. "Plus, we’ve been _better_ , haven’t we?” His free hand was trailing down her dad’s back. If he went much farther, he’d run out of sweater vest. “Maybe a little _too_ good…”

Suddenly looking alarmed, her dad quickly swatted his hand away. 

“Ouch! Heh, right, right. Everything’s good in maturation, huh, DW?”

“ _Moderation_ , LP,” her dad growled up at him. “AND _I DON’T KNOW_ what you’re talking about, LP,” he said through gritted teeth, nodding in Gosalyn's direction. 

She was only half listening to them, more interested in trying to hold several ice cubes in her mouth as long as possible, seeing if she could make them melt before they gave her brain freeze. It wasn't _super_ going in her favor, because the iciness was starting to hurt a little.

“Aw, don’tcha remember, DW?” There was a mix of disappointment and disbelief in Launchpad's voice. “I’m _SURE_ ya remember,” he insisted, and her dad shook his head rapidly at him, pointing as if he was trying to direct Launchpad's attention over at Gosalyn. 

“Oh c’mon, DW," Launchpad protested, undeterred even by her dad's now violent hand gestures. "There's no way ya forgot...especially that ONE day! What was it, FIVE times in a ROW?"

" ** _NO_** , LP—!" 

But Launchpad wouldn't let it go. "Y’know, how we were havin’ too much SE—” and before he could finish whatever he was going to say, her dad elbowed him sharply in the gut.

“ ** _LAUNCHPAD!_** _Hellooooo_ , our daughter is present!”

Her brain turning frosty, Gosalyn conceded defeat to the ice cubes which had refused to melt, so she unceremoniously spit them back into her glass. 

“It’s okay, Dad,” she said. “I know all about how you both went nuts with the billions of kissing dates, REMEMBER?” 

She thought she had made that clear at the hospital the other night. Yet now, her flustered dad, who was blanching and blushing all at the same time, was acting as if it was somehow new information. He always insisted he listened to everything she said, but this was yet even more proof he was full of crap. Either that, or the shift from Angel Dad back to Grouchy Dad erased a few memories along the way. She couldn’t discount either theory. 

“Not to mention,” she continued, “how you got so obsessed that you wouldn’t leave poor Launchpad alone!” To punctuate her point, she stuck her tongue out at him. He seemed to be frozen in place, and could only gape at her in horror. 

“Yeah, _poor_ ol’ me,” Launchpad murmured wistfully, a dreamy look on his face, as if he was imagining his favorite dessert.

By this point completely embarrassed, her dad was red from head to toe. And as usual, his embarrassment was accompanied by anger. “I-I-I _REFUSE_ to dignify any of that with a response!” He snarled, but that was, of course, still a response. 

“ANYWAY, young lady," he said, quickly changing the subject, "I believe that your room is in _DIRE NEED_ of a good cleaning, so you march yourself up there and get to work! Otherwise, beets might be on the menu in the very near future.”

After having Angelic Dad around for so long, she honestly thought she’d never hear those words again, so she beamed at him. “Sure thing, Dad!” He looked confused at her enthusiasm, but before he could say anything, she headed up to her room.

As she was going up the stairs, she could hear her dad mutter, “I _STILL_ don’t know what the hell a kissing date is.”

Then she heard Launchpad nervously chuckle. “Heh well, whatcha gotta know about _that_ is…”

\--

Later that night, Gosalyn’s room was so clean it was almost unrecognizable. That didn’t mean it was spotless, of course—castles in the sky, and whatnot—but at least the garbage in the closet and the mushroom forest under the bed was gone. You could actually sort of see the floor, too. Sure, there were some comics and toys here and there, but Gosalyn was pleased with her work. She was fairly confident her dad would be happy with the result too, as long as he didn’t trip on anything on the way in to inspect her room. One errant roller skate and this could all go downhill. And if he was too close to the stairs, maybe _literally_. After a brief check, though, the floor near the door was more or less clear.

As a reward to herself for her hard work, she decided to start up _Whiffle Boy X7_ again. She’d of course beaten it (and the sequel, _X8_ ) several times over the past month or two, but she was curious about trying out Boss Rush Mode. She was sprawled across her bed, about to beat the third boss—a weaselly looking electric boss who kind of reminded her of Megavolt—when her dad knocked on her door.

“GOS! I’m coming in,” he called, and opened the door without waiting for her to respond. She rolled her eyes at this, and bracing herself for the room inspection, hurriedly stood up next to her bed, tossing her game over on her pillow.

“Now let’s see,” he said, surveying the room. He did a quick walk through, glancing under her bed and in the closet, which had been the most egregiously gross. “Uh huh, uh huh,” he said, as if crossing items off a checklist. He was starting to make her feel a little nervous, especially when he looked up at the ceiling. 

_Oh crap_ , she thought. She’d forgotten about all the bubblegum, silly putty and other sticky stuff—such as, she wasn't gonna lie, _boogers_ —she’d flicked up there just to see how long it’d stick. Which was months.

“Well,” he said, narrowing his eyes up at the mess on the ceiling. “Other than the fact that we probably need a pressure washer to get that gunk off, overall, you did a pretty good job, kiddo.” Smiling, he reached over and ruffled her hair. 

He was _juuuust_ about to leave the room when he noticed something over by her desk. It was her science textbook, which had an envelope sticking out of it. Raising an eyebrow, he plucked it out of the book, and suddenly Gosalyn remembered what it was. _Oh no_. It was her report card. Countdown to Freak-out: T-minus three seconds. _Three…two…one—_

After a brief look at the report card, he was instantly fuming and stamping his foot impatiently. “ _GOSALYN MALLARD!"_ She violently cringed at the full name usage, because that meant she was in Big Trouble, yet strangely she felt an odd sense of peace. 

"Care to EXPLAIN these grades, young lady?”

“I guess I, uh, started to slack a bit,” she grinned nervously.

“Uh-huh, well, _‘I guess’_ that somebody’s GROUNDED, starting now.” He opened his hand expectantly.

She knew what that meant. She picked up her game and reluctantly handed it over to him, but she somehow felt serene. 

“I’ll be changing the Wi-Fi password too, you know,” he warned. 

She knew that would take a while, though, since he was pretty bad at remembering how to do it. Plus, his passwords—excuse me, “terrorthatflaps” and “darkwing1234”??—were way too easy to guess. Heck, even when Launchpad made a password, his were harder to figure out, and once he had made one that was literally just “hamburgers.” 

“Starting from tonight, you’re grounded for two weeks, you got that? I took off a week for your good work with your room,” he explained, and grunted when Gosalyn stepped forward and gave her dad a big hug. 

He looked down at her in slight confusion. He really had no idea how long she’d been waiting to be grounded for stuff again. Angelic Dad had really been more of a Devil, in that way. In any case, this was how things were supposed to be—Grouchy Dad and his (mostly) fair punishments. It felt sort of weird that she should be so happy about getting grounded, but everything seemed...right. The world was in balance.

“Now, don’t think you can weasel out of your punishment just because you’re giving your dear old dad a hug,” he said, trying to surreptitiously wipe a tear from his eye. “Reverse psychology is _NOT GONNA WORK_ ,” but even as he said this, he hugged her back. 

He released her and sternly put his hands on his hips, perhaps trying to hide how he was all misty-eyed. “Speaking of punishments, I wonder if you recall our little agreement regarding your report card,” he began, and Gosalyn wracked her brain trying to remember what he was talking about.

“Namely, that _SOMEBODY_ was going to become your study buddy if your grades were bad again.” _Oh nonononononono._

She groaned, but after all was said and done, she guessed she probably had this coming too. “ _Somebody_ isn’t going to, it’s just _YOU_ , Dad,” she joked, recalling her dad's earlier run-in with the soccer ball. He just shook his head at her. 

But he genuinely looked excited at the thought of studying with her when he said, “Just you wait till you’ve heard the mnemonic devices I’ve got for remembering the presidents! And no matter what he says, don’t let Launchpad convince you—Captain Crunch is _NOT_ a president.”

She grinned. Despite how lame being grounded and having her dad as a study buddy was going to be, life, the universe, and everything was going to be _juuuuuust_ fine.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is different than the earlier ones, in that it is from Binkie's POV, and later, Drake's. It's also long as hell. Sorry about that. 
> 
> This occurs several weeks after the events of the last chapter.
> 
> FYI: Sexual references are more overt here, but sex is still only alluded to (i.e., not explicit). Binkie is too nosy for her own good. 
> 
> If you made it this far, thank you for reading my story. I hope it wasn't too bad.

_Oh, if it wasn’t just the most gorgeous day today_ , Binkie Muddlefoot thought as she settled in to pruning the rosebushes. She hadn’t trimmed them down in a while, so they were due to be nice and spruced up. _It was like her roses were having a spa day! Oh, I'm such a silly,_ she thought, tittering a bit to herself. 

Both of her sons were out enjoying this beautiful weather too, playing with Honker’s little rambunctious friend Gosalyn from next door. They were playing street hockey in front of the Mallard driveway and she could hear her older son Tank and Gosalyn calling to each other as they skated around. She glanced up from her pruning, and noticed that her youngest was playing goalie, standing in front of a little portable hockey net. He was slouching a bit, but he was staying up wonderfully on his skates, she thought proudly. He sometimes came home with a few bruises and scratches from playing with Gosalyn—who she thought played a bit rough sometimes—but still, being outside playing was preferable to him being cooped up with his books all of the time.

She looked over the hedge and noticed that her neighbors’ garage door was open and saw that Launchpad, the tall, buff pilot who was her neighbor Drake’s partner, was working on their car. _Wait, were they married or just dating?_ Binkie hadn't noticed any rings, but they might not practice that particular tradition. Holding a wrench in one hand, the handsome redheaded pilot noticed her and waved with his other, giving her a radiant smile. _Hmm. Drake has pretty good taste,_ she mused, waving back.

_Oh! Speak of the devil_ , she thought, as Drake emerged from their front door and walked down the driveway. He was much shorter and smaller than Launchpad, who towered over him, and had a much sharper tongue. Binkie always thought he was kind of handsome too, but his scowling made him a little off-putting. It was no different right now: as he stalked out of his house, he was looking a tad grouchy. _But how could he be, when the sun was shining like this?_ She couldn’t understand these glass half-empty types.

Never one to miss a cheerful greeting, she called over to him as she trimmed her roses’ errant and prickly stalks. “Good morning, Drake! It’s a _BEAUTIFUL_ day out, isn’t it, dear?” 

“Oh, hi, Binkie,” he muttered. “Yeah, if you say so,” and he went up to his mailbox, inspecting the contents. Noticing his daughter playing with Binkie’s sons out in the street, he called out to her.

“Gosalyn! I know this is more or less a quiet street, but watch out for cars, would you, PLEASE?”

“Don’t worry Dad, I won’t hit them! I’ve been getting better at aiming my swings,” she said, gliding quickly by him on her skates. 

“That’s _not_ what—oh, nevermind!” He went back to rifling through the mail as he ambled back down the driveway.

Launchpad had stopped working on the car and was carrying a small cooler to the middle of the driveway. Binkie noticed that he seemed to have some sort of small bandage taped above his eyebrow. _Hmm, I wonder what happened there._

“Hey Gos, Tank, Honk-man,” Launchpad called to the kids. “Want some drinks? I got Pep in here,” he said. The kids hooted with joy, and started to skate closer. 

Then he looked over the hedge at Binkie apologetically. “Oh, wait, is that okay, Binkie? If ya don’t want Tank and Honker to have sugar, I got some other stuff too.”

_He was so considerate!_ “Oh no, Launchpad, if they just have one apiece that should be just fine. Thank you so much, dear!” 

Drake had come to the part of the driveway where Launchpad was standing and briefly looked up from the mail to glare up at the much taller duck. “LP, you better be making sure _YOU’RE_ drinking some stuff _TOO_ , you know. Preferably NOT soda?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, DW,” Launchpad sighed, as if they’d had this conversation many times before. With Drake watching him carefully, he chose a water out of the cooler. Drake looked satisfied by this, and went back to picking through his big stack of envelopes. 

Binkie had heard—she may have eavesdropped this—that Launchpad had suffered some kind of issue with dehydration recently, and it looked like Drake was keeping after him for it. _He might not act lovey-dovey, but it looked like Drake might have a little bit of a sweet side after all,_ she smiled to herself.

By now the kids had skated up and were digging around in the cooler, squabbling a bit over which drink they would pick.

Everyone was startled into complete silence, though, when suddenly Drake started to shout.

**_“WHAT IN THE HELL IS THIS?!”_** He shrieked, waving around a paper he had taken out of one of the envelopes, which based on its large yellow sticker, looked to have been forwarded from some other address. The rest of the mail he had unceremoniously dropped on the ground. 

"HOW **_DARE_** HE!!! GIZMODUCK is SUING DAR—errrrrr, ME, for _DAMAGES?_ WHAT _RIGHT_ does he have? THE DAMN **_NERVE!!”_** And he proceeded to throw the paper down on the pavement and stamp on it, all the while pulling at his prominent cheek feathers.

Binkie had since stopped pruning her roses, and was gaping over the hedge at the spectacle. She always knew Drake had a temper on him, but seeing him like this was a first. She hoped he wouldn’t curse any more, since the children were right there. However, he seemed to be holding the worst curses in check, _thank goodness_.

“I CAN’T **_BELIEVE_** this! What did I even _DO?”_ He cried, as everyone awkwardly looked on. 

“Err, remember, DW?” Launchpad bent down, retrieved the paper, and tentatively handed it back to Drake, who rudely snatched it out of his hand. “About how ya wrecked his suit last caper?” 

_Wait, what did he mean by ‘caper?’_ Binkie was perfectly perplexed, and decided to speak up. “Um, excuse me, Launchpad, but how would Drake here be responsible for causing damage to the robot suit of the superhero from Duckburg?” It didn't make a whole lot of sense, after all. 

“Uhhhhhhhh…..” Both Launchpad and Drake looked at each other nervously. The kids just quietly sipped their drinks off to the side, but Binkie did notice a strange glance shared between Honker and Gosalyn. 

“Er, he hit ‘im with the car,” Launchpad said quickly. “Yer kinda a bad driver, huh, DW?” 

Drake shot daggers at him, looking like he wanted to say, _Like you’re one to talk_. 

“Anyway, I just now finished fixin’ it up. See, no dents!” Launchpad said, pointing behind him at their little blue car, which was, indeed, looking as if it had never even been in an accident.

“Oh, I see.” But Binkie thought she had seen Launchpad working on something under the _hood_ earlier, though, not the car's exterior. _Oh well. Maybe I'm mistaken,_ she thought.

“How much does the little _WEASEL_ want, anyway?” Drake muttered to himself, and unfurled the crumpled paper more so he could see the amount. Then, obviously upset by what he saw, he proceeded to erupt with anger once more. But this time, as soon as he started up again, Launchpad shook his head down at Drake, who was trembling and nearly beside himself with fury.

“DW…” Launchpad said, hands on his hips, a bit of a warning note in his voice. "Sounds like ya need to calm down..."

“Oh _SHUT_ it, LP! I don’t WANNA _**HEAR** IT!” _ But looking up at Launchpad, he apparently recognized something in Launchpad’s steely gaze, because he suddenly looked alarmed and maybe a _teensy_ bit excited.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Launchpad said, and scooped up his startled partner as easily as a little throw pillow, tossing him over his shoulder. Binkie couldn’t help but blush and avert her eyes as Launchpad gave Drake’s upturned bottom a little pat. 

If he had been red in the face from anger before, now Drake was absolutely _crimson_ from embarrassment.

“You-you idiot! Not in front of the _MUDDLEFOOTS!”_ He cried, but far from flinching or flailing about, he looked like he had melted very comfortably in Launchpad's embrace. In fact, when Launchpad took him inside through the garage door, Binkie thought she saw Drake smiling as he nuzzled against Launchpad’s massive shoulder. 

_Hmmm,_ she thought. _It seems Drake likes to play games. Was that little meltdown part of it?_

“Urgh, just ignore all that,” Gosalyn whispered to Tank and Honker, waving in her parents’ general direction with her soda. The kids weren't facing Binkie head on, and because she was partially hidden by the hedge, they seemed to have forgotten her presence completely.

“Uh, what in the heck even _WAS_ that?” Tank looked baffled and disgusted. "Your dad was FREAKING OUT, and Launchpad looked like he was boutta LAY HIM OUT." Tank then imitated a wrestling move to punctuate his point. Well, her eldest was _alllllmooost_ right on that last part.

“Eh, sometimes when he gets super mad like that, Launchpad takes him on one of their dates to calm him down,” she said flippantly, and Honker and Tank looked more confused. 

Binkie raised an eyebrow. She had a pretty good idea where Drake and Launchpad were going, and it definitely wasn’t out on any _date._

“A _date_ , inside your house?” Honker said, sounding perplexed. Binkie was about to call over to them so she could intervene and try to change the subject, but Gosalyn spoke before she could cut in.

“Yeah, for their dates they usually just skip the dinner and the movie and go straight to their bedroom.”

For a few seconds, Binkie was utterly floored at the nonchalant way Gosalyn said this. _Oh my word. Does she know what she’s even saying?_ Binkie wondered, her face flushing.

“And before you ask, I don’t know what’s so great about their room, either. They don’t even have a TV in there! Just their squeaky, jankety old bed they love to jump on,” she shrugged. 

Peering over the hedge at her sons, Binkie noticed that Tank’s eyes narrowed a bit at this. He was older, so he might have a better idea of what was really going on. Binkie had a sudden urge to bite her manicured nails through her garden gloves. 

Gosalyn continued, “But I guess that’s where they like to play kissy-face, gross as that is.”

“Um, what's stopping your dad and Launchpad from just doing it out here?” Honker asked, and even though she knew her sweet Honker didn't mean it the way she understood it, Binkie _still_ almost dropped her gardening shears as she imagined how _scandalous_ that would be. 

“Really, Honk?" Gosalyn asked incredulously, and Honker looked chastised. "Do you WANNA see all that mushy crap? I’m personally glad they always hide in their room. But yeah, anyway, whenever they go on these dates, apparently Launchpad gives Dad a lot of kisses, and his mood gets way better. Just you wait and see,” she said, and proceeded to chug the rest of her soda.

“I don’t think I WANT to,” said Tank, who then burped loudly.

As if on auto-pilot, Binkie immediately thought, _Tank, dear, manners!_ but she didn't actually say it out loud. Instead, her mind was swimming with these _very_ interesting new details about her neighbors. She knew it was bad to pry, but oh, she couldn't help it! Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, so she decided to talk to Gosalyn directly. 

“Excuse me, Gosalyn, dear," she said, leaning over the hedge and making her presence known, "May I ask you a teensy little question?" She really wanted to know a little more about these “dates” Launchpad and Drake went on.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Muddlefoot. Oops, I, uh, forgot you were over there." Looking sheepish, Gosalyn turned towards her. Behind her, the boys were peering in the cooler, and Tank was groaning, probably because all the Pep was gone.

"Oh, that's all right, dear. I was going to ask you, about how often do you think your father and Mr. McQuack go on these, err, dates?”

"Hmm, well, since it seems that these days, Dad only stays Angel Dad for about a day afterwards now, I’d guess at least three, probably four a week, but I'm not super sure." Binkie wasn’t sure what in the world Gosalyn meant by ‘Angel Dad,’ but hearing the number, she felt immediately envious. Sometimes she went without a "date" for _weeks._

"But one time, they had FIVE dates on the same day!” If Binkie had a drink to spit out—if she had been that _uncouth_ of a person—she certainly would have. _Wait until the girls hear about this!_ She could rub it in that smug Tina Birdie’s face that she apparently WASN’T the duck getting the luckiest on _this_ block.

“Launchpad was _sooo_ tired that day, for some reason. He ended up drinking a whole case of Gatorade!" _Tired, indeed._ Binkie was more amazed by the pilot's stamina, but Gosalyn was obviously impressed with the quantity of drinks he'd consumed. It made you wonder how he'd even come down with dehydration.

"Oh my, I _bet_ he was exhausted, " she said, wide eyed, considering all of this _very_ interesting information. "If I didn't know any better, with that much time in the bedroom, one'd think they were trying for a baby..." she murmured to herself.

She certainly didn't realize Drake had such an… _appetite_. It was difficult to imagine what her usually grumpy neighbor's attitude was like in bed, but maybe that fiery temper translated somehow to being very passionate and perhaps, kind of needy? _He sure sounded demanding, if what little Gosalyn said was true_ , she thought ruefully. As for Launchpad, she could easily picture him being a gentle and giving lover to his little spitfire of a partner. 

"Dad ending up being so sickeningly sweet that day, it was like he was nothing but positrons," Gosalyn said, now directed back at the boys.

"What in the heck is a positron?" Tank asked, but didn't look incredibly interested in the answer as he absently peeled off the tab on his drink.

Honker raised his index finger, looking like he was about to explain—probably in great detail—but Gosalyn interrupted him.

"Well, I don't remember really either, but anyway, my dad's mood was so good he actually even praised _Pelican’s Island!_ Do you have any idea how insane that is?" Tank and Honker looked at each other questioningly. Binkie and the rest of her family were all fans of _Pelican's Island_ , so it was hard to imagine _anyone_ hating it. 

"Anyway, my dad hates that show with the fire of a THOUSAND SUNS. You know that guy Gizmoduck who’s suing him? Dad only hates him with the fire of like… _five hundred_ suns. He’s practically _in love_ with him compared to the TV show. And yet, that day it was like he was _happy_ about watching it. It was completely _WEIRD_.”

"Your dad's _always_ completely WEIRD, Gosalyn..." Tank muttered. Considering this a moment, Gosalyn shrugged sheepishly, conceding his point.

The kids had by now finished their drinks and putting the cans in the recycling, they skated back to play more of their game, talking about how many suns’ worth of hate they had for this, that, and the other. Broccoli came up at some point, as did their school’s greasy, floppy pizza-in-a-bag that was sometimes served at lunch.

\--

Around forty-five minutes later, Binkie was just about to _finally_ finish her pruning when she glanced over the hedge and saw Launchpad come back outside into the garage. He looked fresh and clean, like he’d taken a shower, and was wearing different clothing. _Ha, she knew it_. He was picking up various tools, the drink cooler, and other such items that he’d left out earlier, dutifully putting them back in their places. He even gathered up the mail that Drake had scattered around during his little tantrum earlier.

Then the front door opened, and she saw Drake, hair tousled, clad in what looked to be a maroon-colored bathrobe. _Mm-hmm. She definitely knew it. Somebody had gotten up to something naughty._

“Gos, sweetie,” he called from the front step, his voice sounding much more cheerful than usual. “I’m going to start making lunch now, so it should be ready in about twenty minutes, okay, hon?” _Well,_ it certainly _sounded_ like he had calmed down. 

Gosalyn called back from the goalie post. “Okay, Dad!” Tank and Honker, bless them, were trying their best to score a goal while she was distracted, but they were still no match for her.

Binkie almost dropped her shears again when suddenly, Drake appeared right near the hedge a couple feet from her. It was like he had _teleported._ It almost reminded her of the footage she'd seen on TV of St. Canard's hero, Darkwing Duck, who would emerge inexplicably out of nowhere in a puff of blue smoke. 

“Oh my Lord!” She exclaimed, startled. It was not only unsettling how quickly Drake had appeared, but it was a little unnerving how her normally grumpy neighbor was now so _sweetly_ smiling up at her.

“Oh my, I’m sorry, Binkie. I didn’t mean to give you a fright,” he said, waving a hand in front of him. “I just remembered that the other day you were so kind to share some coupons with me, and I thought it’d be prudent to return the favor.” Binkie noticed in his other hand he was holding a little book of coupons, which he offered to her.

“Now, here and there we cut a couple of the coupons out, but it’s mostly intact. I hope you can get some use out of them,” he said, beaming. Binkie suddenly had an idea of maybe why Launchpad was attracted to him. 

“Ooh, how generous, Drake! Thank you so much, dear!” She accepted the booklet and gave him a big smile back. _Wow, Gosalyn was right,_ she thought. _His mood improves quite a bit after a nice…“date.”_

“Oh, don’t mention it. You’re always so kind to our family,” he said, and with a wave, headed into their garage, where Launchpad looked like he was organizing things into his toolbox.

Though they were in the garage, Binkie could still hear and see most of what was going on. Drake had sidled up to Launchpad and was gently putting a hand on the pilot’s big bicep. 

“LP, what would you like to drink with lunch, honey?” Binkie felt her face flush at Drake's usage of the affectionate term, which was so out of character it would have been _less_ shocking if he’d just said something explicit. 

“Oh, hey, DW,” Launchpad said, turning to face him. “Uh, maybe some lemonade?”

“I think that could be arranged,” Drake said, hugging him around the waist, which was also shocking to see, since usually he acted like he was allergic to PDA. After all, Binkie had seen Launchpad get jabbed in the belly once or twice for trying to sneak a little smooch on his usually shy and snarky little partner. 

“How sweet do you want it?” Drake was practically _purring_.

“I like it a little sour,” Launchpad murmured, peering down at his partner nuzzling against his chest. Binkie really _should_ look away, but somehow, she _couldn't._

“Not even a _teensy_ bit sweet?” Drake was pulling at Launchpad’s scarf, which apparently was his way of getting Launchpad to bend down. The pilot complied, and now the two were beak to beak.

“Naw, DW, you’ve given me enough sugar already…”

“Mmmm…let me give you some more…” At this, Binkie finally had to avert her eyes, because her neighbors were now deep in a lip-lock. _Holy gorgonzola._ Of the top ten things she’d never thought she’d see, this was probably number one.

The smooching didn't last too long, because she then heard the door shut, presumably because Drake had headed inside to start on lunch. Launchpad finished tidying up their garage, and giving her a wave—hopefully he didn't notice she'd just been _staring_ at them—went inside too.

Gosalyn skated up near her, looking like she was about to head inside for lunch, too. "Do ya see what I mean, about Dad's mood? He turns into Angel Dad," and now, Binkie _finally_ understood what she had meant.

\--

One Saturday about a week or so later, Drake had made a big platter of various finger sandwiches for lunch, and was pouring drinks for them as Gosalyn bounded in. She had been playing catch outside with Honker earlier and looked like she had gotten a little sun. _Hmm, I should probably slather some sunscreen on her if she heads back outside later,_ Drake thought. Launchpad had set the table for them and was sitting comfortably in their breakfast nook, waiting for Drake and Gosalyn to join him. 

Gosalyn plopped down next to Launchpad, and looking to her right, noticed a pile of mail catalogs on the floor next to the table, which Drake was planning on recycling later. It was just a bunch of junk mail, but Gosalyn for some reason suddenly seemed especially intrigued by the catalog on top, and snatched it up to look at it. It didn’t matter really, but Drake thought it was odd that Gosalyn, who had never expressed interest in dolls or baby stuff, was looking at a catalog for infant clothes and such. She was of course way too big to wear any of that stuff, so Drake had no need of that particular catalog, and he was just going to throw it out with the rest of it.

As she flipped through the pages, she kept casting strange glances at both him and Launchpad. Drake ignored her, and Launchpad just seemed oblivious, since he was probably too busy thinking about lunch. Finally, Drake brought their drink glasses and the sandwich platter over and they all sat down to eat.

Drake noticed that only he and Launchpad were eating, though, because Gos was still looking through the catalog and occasionally glaring up at them.

“Gos, sweetie, can you put that away for now? You can look at it after lunch,” Drake said. He wasn’t sure why in the heck she was so interested in it in the first place, but whatever. 

She crumpled the catalog in her fist, and crossed her arms, looking angry. Both Drake and Launchpad stopped chewing and looked at her. _Uh oh. Something was up._

“You guys are _HOLDING OUT_ on me, aren’tcha?” 

“What in the world are you talking about, sweetie?” Was this about her allowance, or something? Drake thought he had raised it a few cents not that long ago. _Maybe two or three cents wasn’t enough,_ he reflected.

She tossed the baby catalog on the table and pointed to it. “Are you guys trying to make a BABY?!”

Drake started choking uncontrollably, but even in his distress, he was pretty sure that next to him, Launchpad had violently spit out his drink. 

“ _Wh-whaaaaat?!!”_ Launchpad 'recovered' first, if you could call it that, while Drake was still wheezing, trying his best to just _breathe_.

“You'd better tell me if I'm going to get a baby brother or sister!" Gos demanded. "I wanna _know!_ Especially since you’re getting stuff like THIS in the mail…”

“G-Gos, yer not…we _can’t_ …and that’s…” Launchpad sounded as flustered as Drake felt.

“Gos, w-what on earth gave you that idea?” Drake finally sputtered. “Just this junk mail?” _Surely_ she didn’t assume something crazy like that just based on _this._

“No, but it reminded me,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Cause the other day, Mrs. Muddlefoot pointed out that you two spend A LOT of time in the bedroom, and how parents who do that are ‘trying for a baby,’ whatever THAT means.” And here, she raised an eyebrow, glaring at them as if she’d caught them in a lie. 

His skin burning hotly with embarrassment, Drake’s stomach was churning so wildly he thought for a second that he’d lose the lunch that he’d only barely touched. This was his absolute _worst_ nightmare. Other than Future Gos dating somebody. He already hated whoever that ended up being. _Sorry not sorry, Future Kid. I WILL make your life a living hell._

But God love him, Launchpad stepped in to save him. “Uh, Gos, whatcha gotta know is, babies come from eggs, and though some parents can, me an’ yer dad can't make an egg on our own. So, if we have another baby, we'll adopt, just like when we got you! And we’ll definitely let you know about it.”

And though he looked a little nervous about this subject, he gave Gosalyn a reassuring smile. Drake was so proud of and grateful to LP for keeping the Talk simple. Even if he had somehow calmed down enough to say anything, Drake was sure he'd probably have given too much information all at once and made the whole thing even MORE awkward. _Urgh._

Gosalyn seemed satisfied, though. For _now,_ anyway. "Oh, okay. I thought that was true—I think they might've said something about repro-reproduction?" She sounded out the word, then continued—"at school at some point, but I guess I got a little confused. So, Mrs. Muddlefoot is wrong, then—there's PLENTY of other reasons for spending so much time in your bedroom. That makes sense, cause I like to play video games in mine, and I know you two like to kiss in yours, not to mention play that weird game where you jump on your bed and yell at each other." 

Drake was confused for a few seconds. _Jump on the bed? Yell at each other? What in the **hell** was she talking about now?_

Then he got it. _Oh **SHIT,**_ Drake thought, suddenly feeling as if he’d been doused with frigid water. He gaped over at Launchpad, who looked just like Drake felt: the expression on his face just said, _Please kill me now._

Seemingly satisfied by their little chat, Gosalyn began eating heartily, chattering happily about hockey or her new video game or something or other. Meanwhile, Drake and Launchpad found that they suddenly had no appetite.

When lunch finally ended and Gosalyn—with a generous layer of sunscreen applied—had gone back outside to play, Drake went back into the kitchen, where Launchpad was finishing up the dishes, and immediately confronted him by the sink.

“Oh my **_God_** , LP—you heard Gosalyn earlier—we REALLY need to soundproof our room! And maybe do something about the bed squeaking so much,” he said, cringing a little as he thought about it.

Launchpad wiped his wet hands on a dish towel and gave him a wink. “Heh, yeah, we really make it squeal sometimes, don't we, DW?” Drake’s face burned at this, but he didn’t deny it.

“Not to mention, you can get pretty loud yerself, too,” LP said, and Drake glared up at him. “Especially if I give ya somethin' like this," and before Drake could react, he reached down and gave one of Drake's ass cheeks a quick little swat. Though he hated that he was so predictable, Drake couldn't help but let out a high-pitched squeak.

By now Drake’s heart was thumping, but he kept telling himself it wasn’t because of Launchpad’s dirty talk. Or because of that flirty… _mmmm_ …smack to his rear. His tail wagging right now was also unrelated.

“ ** _LP!_** As if you aren’t vocal _yourself,_ mister!” Drake retorted indignantly. LP just gave him that toothy half-grin he sometimes did when he was being naughty, and slipped behind Drake.

“Mmmm,” Launchpad murmured, now embracing him from behind, "How ‘bout we go play a little of that game Gos was talkin’ about, DW?” The rumble of his voice was sending shivers down Drake’s spine. “Y’know, the one where we do a little bouncin’ on our bed and yellin’…” His voice was so low and dark in his ear that Drake _couldn't_ deny his insides were just roiling because of it.

“Oh h-hush, you,” he scolded, giving LP a halfhearted elbow jab to the belly.

"But,” Drake said, shooting Launchpad a sultry stare up over his shoulder, “I think I _might_ have you take a good look at that _darn_ squeaky mattress later tonight, _maaaybe_...” Then he arched his back and gave his hips the tiniest wiggle, just enough to be a tease. He knew it was working, because he could feel LP's hot gaze already glued to his rear.

“After _Pelican’s Island?”_ LP asked hopefully.

Drake rolled his eyes. “Oh, if you insist.” He spun around to lovingly look up at his big pilot.

Launchpad gave him that grin that always made his stomach flip, no matter the mood he was in. "Then it's a 'date!'" And he sealed it with a kiss.


End file.
